


Malicious Intent

by sesheta_66



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, M/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesheta_66/pseuds/sesheta_66
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy.  He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time.  He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life.  What else can he do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plan is to update this weekly (at a minimum) and I anticipate it will end up being about ~~60K~~ 75K words in length.

Harry sat at his desk, bored out of his mind, doing what seemed like endless piles of paperwork. Bloody hell, being an Auror wasn’t nearly as interesting as he’d hoped when he’d signed up what felt like a lifetime ago. So, when Robards’ voice called, "Potter!" from his office, Harry jumped up, excited for a break from the monotony. 

Harry went over to the Head Auror’s office and leaned in. "Yeah, boss?"

"Come in and shut the door, would you?"

"Sure." Harry did as asked and took a seat, wondering what would prompt a closed-door meeting. "Anything wrong?"

"No, no. Just ... well, I’ve received a new case and – given the complainant’s family history – I’d rather not advertise what’s going on." Harry frowned. "Not that anyone would have a problem with ... but just in case."

Perplexed, Harry waited. Robards shuffled through some papers on his desk then handed Harry the form. When he read the complainant’s name, Harry knew where Robards’ concern lay. Draco Malfoy. Though most corruption had been weeded out in the five years since the war – thanks in large part to Kingsley’s leadership – there remained strongholds of Ministry workers who, while not corrupt, held a good deal of rancour towards known and suspected Death Eaters, former Death Eaters, family members of Death Eaters and sometimes even casual acquaintances of Death Eaters. Not that anyone in the Auror Department would actively seek to harm someone, but it was entirely likely said individuals would receive rather less vigorous support. Much as he hated to admit it, Harry knew that even Ron could have been included in that group. Particularly where Malfoy was concerned.

"Ah," Harry said. "I understand." Robards nodded and motioned for him to continue reading. According to the report, Malfoy had been receiving threats – ones he either hadn’t taken seriously prior to this, or that he suspected would not be treated as worth investigation – for several months. Yesterday, whoever had been threatening him had escalated, had broken into his flat, destroying a number of items and leaving a note amongst the rubble. "Next time, I’ll come when you’re home." it said.

Harry looked up, a cold churning settling in his stomach. Robards said, "I see that you recognise the gravity of the situation."

Harry nodded. "Malfoy’s an accomplished wizard." Denying it would have served no purpose. "In school he came second only to Hermione Granger in our year, and you know what a formidable witch she is. I seriously doubt he’d have weak or inadequate wards." This was serious.

"Quite." Robards nodded. "That means whoever is threatening him is also a highly accomplished wizard, or witch, for that matter."

"So you’d like me to take on the case?"

"Ah." Robards leaned back in his chair and scrutinised Harry. "Now there I’m not so sure." Harry said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. "Given your ... ah ... past."

A twinge of apprehension came over Harry. He couldn’t _know_ , could he? No, of course not. No one knew. He tried for casual but confused. "Sir?"

"I understand, from Kingsley, that you and Mr Malfoy have rather a colourful history."

Ah. Relief washed over Harry. "We do," he acknowledged. No point denying that.

"Though I daresay not as contentious as between him and Weasley." Harry nodded. "Listen, Potter, I trust that you will investigate this to the best of your ability. You’ve never hesitated to execute your duties professionally, no matter the victim or circumstance, which is in large part why you were promoted to Senior Auror, despite your age. However, unfortunately, I cannot say the same with regards to all of your colleagues. The ability to set aside personal concerns is something often honed over years, and as you know, we’re lacking seasoned Aurors. So. That’s why I’ve called you in here today." He leaned forward and held Harry’s gaze. "Despite your record, you’ve never been called upon to investigate a case in which you’ve had a personal connection before."

"I --"

He held up a hand to stop Harry’s response. Probably a good thing, since Harry wasn’t even sure what he’d been about to say. "Take a few hours. You’re the best person for the job, I have no doubt, but if you don’t feel you can give this case the same care and attention you could any other, I won’t hold it against you. If you say you can’t do it, I will accept that, no questions. Protocol is to assign cases to Aurors that can remain objective. And I wouldn’t even ask, except ..."

"Except you can’t guarantee he’ll get fair treatment under the circumstances."

Robards nodded. "Take the file, consider your past, and let me know this afternoon if you think you can do this objectively. Or at least as objectively as anyone else."

"I can do it," Harry said.

"I don’t doubt that you _can_ , Potter. My concern is if you _should._ This is as much for your benefit as Mr Malfoy’s."

Not entirely sure what he meant by that, but not wanting to ask, Harry picked up the file and stood to go. "Right. Will do."

"Oh, and Potter? Keep this one to yourself." Harry understood that to mean, _don’t tell Ron_. Which meant don’t tell Hermione. Or Ginny. Or anyone else he might ordinarily talk to about such a decision. Right, then. He was on his own.

Harry spent the morning clearing as much paperwork from his other cases as he could, knowing full well what he was doing. He was already planning to take the case. Ordinarily Aurors don’t get much say in which cases they’re assigned. Robards had chosen him, had said he trusted him. And Harry knew full well the case would get shoved under everything else, if handed to any of a number of his colleagues. He had no idea who would end up with the case if Harry refused it, and Malfoy didn’t deserve to die. Harry hadn’t rescued him from the Fiendfyre back in school just to have him offed by some lunatic, certainly not if Harry could prevent it. And, on a more selfish note, he wasn’t about to risk his own career progression by refusing a case. Sure, Robards had given him an out, but the choice would follow him, no matter what assurances he was given. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Harry’s feelings for the man.

Not sure if he could convince even himself of that, Harry took lunch on his own and went for a walk, determined to give the matter some real thought. The last time he’d seen Malfoy had been on Diagon Alley a couple of years ago. They’d both acted like they hadn’t seen each other, and that had been that. As if either of them had ever been able to ignore the other. And Harry’s thoughts had wandered back to that non-encounter more times than he’d cared to admit in the two years since.

The time before that had been significantly less pleasant. Perhaps the least pleasant encounter of Harry’s life, not counting the war. Somehow, incredibly, he and Malfoy – he’d become Draco by then – had ended up together. It had started innocently enough, but in short order it had become clear that there was a lot more between them than residual anger and pent-up sexual frustration. One night, after a particularly frustrating argument with Ron, Harry had been well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor when Draco had joined him. An hour later they were in Harry’s bed and had been every night for months after that. And it hadn’t just been about the sex, though admittedly that had been fabulous. They’d practically lived together. And it had happened in a heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, it was over. "It never meant anything," Malfoy had told him. "Just a distraction, an outlet, a way to let off some steam." When Harry’d protested, Malfoy had turned cruel. He’d laughed in Harry’s face, had told him he couldn’t possibly think that Malfoy would ever turn his back on family obligation. No, he would marry a pureblood witch, as became a wizard of his breeding, and he would produce an heir and a spare. Should Harry want to fuck occasionally – on the side and in private, of course – Draco might be amenable sometime down the road; it had been good after all, but the current situation had to end, at least for the time being. 

And then he’d left and Harry hadn’t heard from him since.

And now it was Harry’s job to protect him. Hunt down the person who wanted to do Draco harm. He was powerless to say no. It didn’t matter that Draco – no, Malfoy – had left him a shell of a man, unable to trust his own instincts, Harry would protect him or die trying. It was more than just his job. And it was then that he knew he’d never really moved on. He’d fought it well, valiantly even, but the truth was that Draco Malfoy still owned his heart. And after all this time, what could Harry do?

Apparently, he could go protect the git.

He could protect him. Investigate the case. Arrest the bastard doing this. See him or her thrown in Azkaban. And leave the arse to live his purebred life without Harry.

Right. He could do this. It had been five years ago, for Merlin’s sake. Another lifetime. Water under the bridge. He steeled himself and then went to Robards’ office to tell him that sure, he could be perfectly objective and treat the heartless bastard like any other victim. Sure he could. Because he was a _professional_.

_Fucking hell._


	2. Chapter 2

Harry arrived at Malfoy’s flat – a new one that he’d never been to before. It seemed he was doing rather well for himself. He took a few calming breaths – he could do this – and wiped his sweaty palms on his Auror robes before knocking on the door.

At once, he felt a wave of magic descend over him. His robes would prevent identification, beyond the fact that he meant no harm. Probably a good thing, given the situation. "Who’s there?" a familiar but shaky voice came from the other side of the door. 

"Aurors," Harry replied, pleased that his voice came out steadily.

When Malfoy opened the door, his eyes widened. Harry looked past him into the flat and was taken aback by the mess. He shouldn’t have been, considering the report had said there’d been damage. But it was so strange to see Draco – no, Malfoy – surrounded by such disarray. "I ... I didn’t expect it to be you."

"Yeah, well, here I am." Harry walked past Malfoy, perhaps a bit more roughly than strictly necessary, and suppressed a shudder as the full impact of the destruction met his eyes. He knew this would shake Malfoy up. He’d told Harry how violating the presence of Voldemort and his followers had been at Malfoy Manor. He’d not had a single night of restful sleep the entire time. Someone’s home should be their sanctuary, their escape, he’d said at the time. Sure, he hadn’t been home at the time of the break-in, but the invasion of his sanctuary would have shaken Malfoy to the core. Harry breathed in deeply again, willing himself to be objective. He took out his notepad, turned to the first blank page and waved his wand over it, marking the date, time and case number before turning to face Malfoy. "So I understand you’ve had a break-in." 

Predictably, Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What was your first clue?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, but otherwise didn’t take the bait. "If I’m to understand correctly, you also received a threatening note?"

"Yes, it’s right over here."

As he reached out, Harry said, "Don’t touch it!"

Malfoy pulled back his hand at Harry’s command. "I’m afraid it’s too late for that."

"Well, don’t touch it again. We may be able to gather fingerprints or DNA or even a magical signature, if we’re lucky. I’d rather not contaminate it any more than it already has been."

Malfoy glared but said nothing. Harry withdrew an evidence bag and gloves, then carefully picked the paper up by the corner, not wanting his own magic to damage possible evidence, and placed it into the clear plastic. 

Once the note was encased in the bag, he ran cursory detection spells – ones that might identify traces of magic or physical evidence without penetrating with his own magic – but with no result.

"Anything?" Malfoy asked. 

Harry shook his head and scribbled the results in his notebook. "Does anyone live here with you?" When Malfoy shot him a look that screamed _none of your fucking business_ , he added, "If someone else resides here, they may be able to account for other items missing or damaged. And they might also be in danger."

Reluctantly, Malfoy shook his head. "No. No one else lives here."

"Does anyone else have access?"

Malfoy nodded. "My mother, but only when I open access to her. Generally, it’s closed off to everyone, but the wards are set to recognise her, so when I close them, she isn’t granted access, but the wards don’t push back. With others, there’s a jolt and an immediate warning to me of an attempted breach."

"Only your mother, no one else?" Malfoy nodded. "And there was no such warning this time?"

Malfoy ran his hands up his arms as though suddenly cold. "None."

Harry made more notes in his book. "Right. I’ll do a preliminary scan to see if there’s anything that might require a forensics team to do more in-depth investigating." He ran the same scan over the floor as he had on the note before beginning his walk through. "Stay here, if you don’t mind," he said as Malfoy made to follow him.

"I do mind, as a matter of fact."

Harry sighed. "Look, Malfoy, you don’t have to like it, but I’ve been assigned to your case. I need to work it and do at least a preliminary scan over your flat. If you follow me, it could compromise the readings." Malfoy glared. Harry glared back. "I’m not going to touch anything, just scan. I’m not interested in digging into whatever you’re doing."

Malfoy hesitated. "Fine," he said, then crossed his arms over his chest. "But I’ll be watching."

Harry turned away before rolling his eyes. He could run whatever diagnostics he wanted and Malfoy would be none the wiser, but he wasn’t about to tell him that. Let him think he’s _watching_ me.

As it turned out, there was no trace in the flat left from the break-in, except ...

Harry waved his wand over Malfoy before grasping his arm. "I’ll need you to come to the Ministry to make a statement." Harry Apparated them both to the Ministry, then said, "Sit down here, Malfoy. I’ll be back in a little while to take your statement." When Malfoy made to open his mouth, Harry placed a finger over it, effectively silencing him. He then took Malfoy’s hand and gently slipped his family ring from his finger, placing it on the table and pressing his finger more strongly to Malfoy’s lips. He waved his wand and the ring was first encased in a translucent bubble then raised to the ceiling. Then, without any warning, he Apparated them once more, this time to the front room at Grimmauld Place.

No sooner did they land when Malfoy pulled out of Harry’s grip. "What the fuck, Harry?"

"That’s Auror Potter, if you don’t mind."

"Fine, then. What the fuck, _Auror Potter_?"

"Your flat had a number of tracking devices, three different types: one includes video surveillance, one audio only and the third was, I believe, meant to be found. Far less sophisticated than the other two."

Malfoy looked momentarily ill. He recovered quickly and scowled at Harry. "That still doesn’t explain why we’re here."

"I wanted to speak to you in private."

Malfoy pursed his lips and eyed Harry warily. "And the Ministry wasn’t private enough?"

He had a point, particularly since he had no idea that only three people at the Ministry even knew about the case. This place, after all, was where they’d practically lived together. Had spent their best times. It was also the place where Harry currently lived with Ginny. This was such a stupid idea. And yet ... "Relax. I mean strictly about the case."

"Go on." He didn’t look remotely convinced. He also looked about as uncomfortable as Harry now felt. "And what was with my ring? That’s a family heirloom."

"Whatever. Look, I wanted to tell you about the tracking devices, but there was one on your person as well. Inside your ring. That’s why I removed it and left it – under protection – at the Ministry. Now whoever’s listening will hear the muffled goings on there but not our conversation." This had been the only place he’d thought of that would be private, with Ginny currently away at a game for the day and well into the night. "Now does it make sense?"

Malfoy shrugged and his fingers played with the spot where his ring usually rested. "So talk."

"What do you want to do about the listening devices?"

He looked at Harry incredulously. "Get rid of them."

"Or," Harry suggested, "you could let them think we’ve only found the obvious ones."

Malfoy shuddered. "It’s creepy being watched."

Harry agreed. "I can fix that. Run a time-loop that projects what we want by using some of your memories."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah. It’ll take a bit of time to work it out, but I think I can manage it by tomorrow."

Malfoy stared at Harry for a long well before reluctantly saying, "That’s impressive."

Harry didn’t want his approval or compliments or, well, anything. He just wanted to find whoever was threatening Malfoy, lock him away and get on with his life. "Look, I don’t need your praise, I just need your decision."

Malfoy looked poised to argue, but decided against and said, "Okay."

"Good. Let me get a Pensieve and you can place a bunch of memories into it. Then I’ll work on rearranging them in several different configurations so the loop doesn’t get detected too readily. We’ll only use it when you want privacy."

"I want privacy all the time."

"Yes, well, you probably haven’t had that for some time now."

Malfoy once more looked ready to sick up. "What do you mean? Didn’t they just leave them yesterday?"

"Not if my detection spells are correct." He looked at Malfoy’s distraught face and forced himself to remain impassive. "And they usually are. I would say about six were left yesterday, including the three that are easily found, but the rest were left earlier. A couple much earlier."

"Just how many are there?"

"I noticed about fifteen. I’d have to re-run my diagnostics to be sure I didn’t miss any that might be close together – I didn’t want to alert whoever is watching to what I was doing – but there are at least that many."

"What the hell?"

"I’d say someone – or possibly more than one someone – wants to know every move you make."

Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself and shivered; he looked utterly vulnerable and petrified. It was everything Harry could do to hold back from taking him in his arms and telling him everything would be okay. Instead, he said in as professional and detached a voice as he could muster, "Right, so let’s get on with this, shall we?"

  



	3. Chapter 3

Harry looked at the collection of memories in the Pensieve, hoping he’d be able to cobble together some footage good enough to trick the surveillance devices. His skills weren’t great, but should be sufficient for the purpose: short-term and occasional.

"Right," Harry said. "Are we agreed then? We’ll leave the well disguised devices in place and I’ll remove the obvious ones."

Malfoy still looked hesitant. "The ones they wanted you to find."

Harry nodded. "Then do your best to act naturally."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" Malfoy said, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Harry knew that look and it was everything he could do to stay back. He would remain impassive. He would not try to console Draco – Malfoy – to ease his mind. And he would most certainly not take him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay.

"Look, it’s invasive, but you’ve been through worse. You can do this." He resisted reaching out with a calming hand and willed his voice to remain emotionless. "And it won’t be for long. I just want to put a trace on the devices to see if I can determine where they’re transmitting to."

"And you’re sure you can do that?"

Harry shrugged. Truth be told, this wasn’t his area of expertise. "I should be able to narrow it down to a general area, a neighbourhood at least. Any more invasive traces – ones that could pinpoint with more accuracy – would be detectable."

"And that would give them warning, so they could shut everything down, and we'd lose our chance to trace the source."

Harry watched as Draco’s eyes darted around the room, as his teeth nibbled nervously at his lower lip, as his arms reflexively kept squeezing his waist. His instincts screamed to comfort this visibly shaken victim of a crime, but his self-preservation warned him to maintain professional distance from the man who ... well. Maybe he _should_ have told Robards.

"It won’t be for long, and I’ll put up extra wards and warning spells. Once I’ve narrowed down where the signal is transmitting to, we can remove the rest and you’ll have your privacy back."

Draco – Malfoy, damn it – finally let his arms fall to his sides. He balled his hands into fists as he took several deep, calming breaths. "Fine. How long do you figure?"

"A few days, a week at most, I think."

"You think?"

"Look, Malfoy, I’m doing the best I can here."

"Whatever." His arms wrapped around his body again. In a soft voice he asked, "Why does it have to be you?"

Anger flooded Harry. Did he imagine that Harry was happy about the situation? Did he think Harry _wanted_ to be assigned to this case? Did he think that Harry rejoiced in this whole thing? That it was some way to get back at Malfoy? "Look, I’m not any happier about this than you obviously are. Let’s just get through it and I’ll be out of your life for good, okay?"

"That’s not –"

"I didn’t ask for this assignment, alright?"

Again he squeezed his arms around himself. Harry wished he’d stop doing that. "Then why take it?"

Harry sighed. He was asking himself the same question. "Would you rather Ron be handling this? Or is there some other Auror you’d like to personally request?"

"Never mind."

"No, really." Now Harry was pissed. "Does it offend your sensibilities that they’d assign me instead of someone with vastly more experience? Someone who, no doubt, could do a far better job?"

Malfoy looked shocked at Harry’s words, but before Harry could react, he recovered himself and said, "No. Just the opposite."

"What?"

"I’m surprised they’d be willing to part with you. Particularly for someone like me."

Oh. Well. Harry hadn’t expected that. Bloody hell. Might as well tell him the truth. "I don’t think they are particularly confident that anyone else – at least not anyone that isn’t already bogged down with cases – could remain objective, in light of ..."

"My past." When Harry nodded, he added, "And they thought you could?"

Harry shrugged. "Apparently so." Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself again. "They don’t know about ... us. I never told anyone."

Malfoy’s eyes widened. "No one?"

"Well, I didn’t really fancy telling anyone that you’d made a fool –" Harry stopped and took a calming breath. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to rehash the past. "You know what, never mind. I didn’t tell anyone and didn’t think this would be the best time to bring it up."

Malfoy frowned and suddenly looked deep in thought. Eventually he looked up. "Even if it meant you wouldn’t have to work the case?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair and only just avoided tugging on it. "It wouldn’t be right. You deserve your case to be treated as fairly as anyone else’s. And if that means I handle the case, so be it." Malfoy clenched his jaw but said nothing in response. "Let me go back to the Ministry to retrieve your ring, then we can go back to your place and _find_ the devices."

Malfoy considered him for a while. "Who knows that you’re on this case?"

Harry wasn’t comfortable talking about this, but he figured Malfoy ought to know. "Just me, Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"The Minister, Head Auror and you?"

"That’s right."

"Not Weasley?"

Harry felt himself getting irritated again. "Not that it’s any of your business, but no. And I’m not going to tell him. Nor will Robards or Kingsley."

"But you took me there, to the Ministry, earlier."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but that room is used for interrogations and when someone is in there, no one else can Apparate inside." Even still, he knew he’d taken a risk. "I had to do something in order to get the ring off you without signalling to whoever is spying on you. And I’d banked on no one being in the observation room just outside. But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not take you back there."

"Okay."

Harry’d expected an argument. And now that he was about to go, he realised that he was leaving Draco in his home, alone. The home he shared with Ginny. This was such a bad idea. "I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."

"Fine."

Harry Apparated to the Ministry and, thankfully, the room remained vacant. He was able to retrieve the ring and return in short order. To find Malfoy holding a picture of Harry and Ginny taken outside at the Burrow.

He hastily put down the picture. "So, you and the Weaselette?"

Harry scowled. What the hell business was it of his anyway? "Yes, she lives here with me."

"So, not married then?" 

Harry ran his hand through his hair, if only to avoid grabbing Malfoy by the collar, shaking him and screaming in his face. "No, I’m not. And neither are you. And I’m not doing this with you." He took out his wand and Malfoy flinched. "Relax, I’m not going to hex you. I put a blocking spell on the ring before I left the Ministry and I’m going to remove it now. That means whoever is doing this to you will hear every word we say from now on. Got it?"

He no longer looked frazzled. In fact, he seemed to have regained some of his signature arrogance in the few minutes Harry’d been gone. "Got it."

"And when we’re at your flat, remember to act naturally. Don’t let on that you know anything. Act like you’re hearing everything for the first time. We don’t want them to figure out what we’re doing."

Defiantly, he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Not a problem. I happen to be a brilliant actor when I want to be."

"Of course you are." Harry stared him straight in the eye and grimaced. "How could I ever forget?"

With a wave of his wand, he removed the spell on the ring, effectively ending their conversation, and grabbed Malfoy by the arm before Apparating them back to his flat.  



	4. Chapter 4

Back at Malfoy’s flat, Harry jumped into action. "I’m going to record everything I’m doing, if that’s alright with you."

Malfoy stood, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe that separated front room from kitchen. "Whatever the Great Auror Potter must do."

Harry sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure Malfoy was acting. "Look, Malfoy, don’t be a dick. You have the right, as the homeowner and victim here, to request that I not record the inspection as I take a walk through."

Malfoy scoffed. "Like they couldn’t take your own memories as evidence?"

"No, as a matter of fact, they can’t." This was one of the changes made in the last five years. Consent was required for video evidence. Still photographs of crime scenes were standard, but if there was no injury to a person, the homeowner could say no to photographic evidence. "Nothing prevents viewing of memories via Pensieve, but nothing is admissible without your consent."

"Whatever." He waved his arm at nothing in particular. "Have at it. I have nothing to hide." He crossed his arms over his chest again. "Not that you or anyone else believes that."

Harry rolled his eyes and began his recording with the case number, date and time. He repeated the spells he’d used earlier, adding to his earlier notes, and throwing numerous other detection spells into the mix. He could feel Malfoy’s eyes watching his every move, cataloguing what Harry was seeing. He focussed his attention on the damage done to Malfoy’s property, then acted surprised as he came across the barely concealed devices.

"Are these yours?" he asked, holding out his gloved hand to Malfoy, three bugs clearly visible. Malfoy leaned in for a good look and went to reach for them. Harry pulled his hand back. "Don’t touch them, please. They may be evidence."

"Sorry. Forgot." Malfoy withdrew his hand and squinted at them. "No, they’re not mine. What are they?"

Harry stared down at his hand. "This isn’t my area of expertise, but it seems someone wants to keep careful watch on you."

Draco glared at the devices Harry held in his hand. "So these are ...?"

"Bugs," Harry said. At Draco’s faux-confused look, he elaborated. "Listening devices. A sort of muggle-magic hybrid. They don’t look particularly sophisticated, as far as I can tell, but I’ll have someone in forensics look them over."

Malfoy – true to his word – acted quite surprised. "Bugs." He frowned. "But couldn’t they just put a listening spell on the place?"

Harry nodded. "They could have, but these are easier to hide in a wizard’s home. After all, you’re more likely to look for magic than something like this, something that’s less likely to set off your wards."

"Not like those worked anyway."

"No," Harry agreed. "But once you clean up this mess and tighten your wards, these might have gone undetected, and they’d be able to listen in, even if they could no longer get in."

Draco reached for them again. this time with more force, but Harry pulled back. "Don’t destroy them."

"Why the fuck not?" he said, scowling at the devices.

"Because once they’re destroyed, we can no longer track them." Draco stopped reaching for them. "In fact, once they stop transmitting, we probably can’t do anything to track the signal," Harry explained. "That’s the problem with this hybrid technology. The magical component is so weak that it doesn’t leave much of a trace. We have to catch it in the act of transmitting."

"So catch it!"

"These don’t seem to be transmitting right now."

"But –"

"It appears to be recording – that’s the muggle part of it – but it may be set to transmit only at certain times. Less likely to be discovered that way."

"So how did you find them?"

Harry stared at him, then raised his brows. "You may find this hard to believe, Malfoy, but I’m actually pretty good at my job. I’m a trained Auror and I’ve seen a fair few of these over the past few years."

"I –"

"Look, you don’t have to like me or the fact that I’m on your case, which you clearly don’t, but I do actually know what I’m doing. I won’t pretend I’m an expert on surveillance devices – that’s what our forensics group is for – but I have a basic working knowledge of this stuff."

Draco pursed his lips. "Whatever, Potter."

"Let me finish up what I’m doing and then I’ll leave you to fill out reports." Harry carried on with his detailed inspection. He made no indication that he saw or otherwise suspected additional devices. He would review the footage later and make his notes then, away from the prying eyes of the video recording devices. 

"Right, that’s me done for now." He ended the recording spell and placed two forms on the table. "One of those is the formal report; the second is for you to list any missing items. Do you have any questions?"

Malfoy looked once more at the bugs. "Are they listening now?"

"They might be, yes."

"Well, get them the hell out of here." He shivered. "It’s creepy being spied on."

"I’ll take them with me and hand them over to the experts. They may want to come by as well." Malfoy didn’t look thrilled at having more people go through his things. Harry couldn’t blame him for that. "So, you have two choices. We can declare this an ongoing crime scene, in which case you won’t be able to stay here until after the team can come in and do their thing."

"How long will that be?"

"A couple of days, give or take. They’ve got quite a bit on their plates at the moment."

"Of course they do." He wrapped his arms around his waist again. "And what’s the second choice?"

Harry ignored the slight. "I don’t recommend it, but without anyone injured, the choice is yours. You can trust me – which I’m sure will sit oh so well with you – to record the scene and bring these bugs and the footage to them, and you can go back to doing whatever it is you do. They can then come by when they’re available to look for anything else out of the ordinary, but the scene won’t have been preserved."

"I’ll go with option two."

"I don’t –"

"I heard you, Potter. You don’t recommend it. But let’s be honest, shall we? They already assigned the case to you. There’s no way people don’t know our history, so putting someone who’s always hated me on the –"

"I don’t hate you."

Malfoy snorted. "Sure. Right. Whatever." He began pacing along a small clearing in the rubble. "Regardless, I don’t fancy anyone at the Ministry gives two shits what happens to me, so how much better or worse could it be than you?" He stopped his pacing to look at Harry. "Better the devil you know, yeah?"

Harry barked out a laugh. "So I’m the devil now?"

Malfoy threw his hands up in the air. "Not the point."

"Then what, precisely, is the point, _Malfoy_?"

Malfoy settled himself in a chair and put his face in his hands. "The point is that I shouldn’t have even bothered contacting the Ministry. Only … well, whoever is doing this has managed to invade my _home_ and get past my wards. And where else could I go?" He surveyed the disaster of his flat and Harry could see just how deeply this was cutting. "I don’t think anyone is about to bend over backwards to help a former Death Eater, but I will, grudgingly, concede that you may be the one Auror that might actually do _something_."

Harry coughed. "Gee, such high praise."

Malfoy shrugged but didn’t look up. "For reasons best known to yourself, you did testify on my behalf after the war. And … well … whatever. I suppose that’s more than most would have done, so …"

 _And I saved your life, you tosser. Not to mention … well, best not to mention._ "So you’ll take my recommendation?"

He laughed and finally looked up. "I’ll accept you working the case. Not like I have a choice there, anyway, but still. I’ll also accept your additional security wards. But no, I don’t think I’ll move out whilst waiting for a team to come here and poke around my things, probably hoping to find something on me or, worse, plant something in my home, rather than find whoever’s doing this. Thanks, but no."

"Look, Malfoy –" Harry wanted to defend his colleagues, but understood what Malfoy was thinking. He probably wasn’t far off the mark to think that some people would be more than happy to catch him at something he could be tossed into prison for.

"Spare me, Potter."

"I know the Ministry had corruption all through its ranks. Long before Voldemort took over." Lucius Malfoy was proof of that, though it didn’t bear mentioning. "But we’ve done a good job of clearing the place."

Malfoy snorted. "Sure you have."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I have confidence in our Auror department, at the very least. But I understand if you don’t."

"Good, glad we got that sorted." He stood up and took his wand out. "Perhaps you could add some of your Super Saviour Auror wards to this place before you leave, and then I can get on with cleaning up this disaster." He walked into the kitchen. "Meanwhile, I could use a drink."

Harry nodded and did just that. Five minutes later, he was done. "That should be good to keep people out. I’ve set the wards to allow myself access as well as you."

Malfoy’s eyes widened. " _You_ will have access?"

Harry could tell Malfoy was about as thrilled as he was. "Yes, well, I am the Auror on the case, and I figured I should be able to get in should something happen."

"Something?"

"Should someone breach the wards, or ... something."

Malfoy fidgeted with his glass of amber liquid. "Whatever."

"Look, I know this isn’t ideal." Malfoy made a dismissive noise. Harry ignored him. "I have no intention of coming here unannounced and uninvited, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I couldn’t respond quickly to whatever situation might arise." He wanted Malfoy to look at him, to understand that Harry would never do anything to risk his life, nor would he invade his privacy, but Malfoy continued to stare into his glass. "You can put up additional warding to block me as well, but do warn me if you’re going to do that, particularly over the next few days."

He shrugged in defeat, but still didn’t look up. "That’s fine. And what about my mother?"

"No, I thought it best for now, until we catch whoever did this, that she not risk coming here. I presume you agree?"

"Oh. Right. Of course. But ..." His words drifted off and he frowned in thought. "I don’t want to worry her, though."

"I understand, but don’t you think she and your father might be able to help figure out who might have done this?" Not that Harry cherished the idea of interviewing Lucius Malfoy, but if it would help narrow down the suspect list, he should.

"Perhaps, but ... well, she’ll want me to stay with them, won’t she?"

Harry thought of Mrs Weasley and how she’d react if something like this were happening to one of her children. "Yeah, I suppose so."

Draco shuddered. "I don’t relish staying there." Harry knew that Draco hadn’t felt comfortable in his childhood home after the war, after Voldemort all but took over the place. He’d hinted at more but had never fully opened up to Harry about that time. And then whatever they’d had had been over before he’d got around to pressing the issue.

"So you still aren’t comfortable there?" Knowing they were being listened to, he didn’t elaborate, and he hoped his look conveyed that to Malfoy. Well, if he’d bother looking at Harry it might.

He shuddered again. "My father and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, and we keep our distance. It’s enough that I go there for dinner and special occasions. I’d rather not make it any longer than that."

Harry nodded. "So do I take that to mean –"

"That I’d rather you _not_ speak to my parents at this time, _Auror Potter._ "

Harry was torn between relief at not having to see Lucius or Malfoy Manor again, and concern that he might not be getting the information he needed to properly investigate and protect Draco. "Fine, but I may push back later."

"Shocking, that." He finally looked up at Harry. "Imagine _you_ pushing back."

Harry smirked. "I’ve been known to do so on occasion."

A fleeting smile crossed Draco’s face before he stood up and it fell once more. "Right, so you can go now. No need to babysit the Death Eater." Harry blinked at the abrupt change in mood. "I have a flat to clean and you have _Auror_ things to do."

Harry barely stopped himself reaching out with a calming hand. Instead, he withdrew his wand. "I can help with that." Draco narrowed his eyes, but Harry quickly added, "My mending charms are pretty good and you can zoom everything back into place. We can set the place to rights in short order."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue, but Harry walked away, brandishing his wand.

It took slightly longer than expected, what with all the damage, but together they got through the mess in the front room in about fifteen minutes. Everything was going swimmingly when, now working in the bedroom, Harry repaired an item that mended itself into a very familiar form. His hand shook as he watched it take shape. When Draco saw it, his pale face went paler and he grabbed it with his hand. He opened a drawer and tossed it inside. "I think I can manage the rest," he said.

Harry didn’t argue this time. He needed to leave. Now. "I’ll be back in a few hours," he said, thankful his voice wasn’t as shaky as his body had become. "Is that enough time for you to inventory what might be missing?"

Not looking at Harry, he said stiffly, "That should be fine."

"Right. I’ve left the forms on your kitchen table." Harry ran his hand through his hair nervously. "So. A few hours then." And he disapparated.

Sitting on his sofa back at Grimmauld Place, he tossed his wand onto the table. His hands shook as he raised them to his face. _He’d kept it._ Draco had kept the gift Harry had bought him all those years ago. It had been a cheap little souvenir from their first – and, as it turned out, only – real date. And he’d _kept_ it. But why? 

If what they’d had – how had Draco put it? _Had only ever been a distraction, a way to let off steam_ – if it had never meant anything, then why would he have kept Harry’s gift?  



	5. Chapter 5

Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry replayed the video he’d taken at Draco’s flat and made additional notes, particularly regarding the hidden surveillance devices. In short order, he confirmed that there had been fifteen. One was in the Malfoy family ring and three were to be sent to the Ministry. There were three that included video and the rest were spread among the main rooms, with one in the entryway. At least whoever planted them didn’t put one in the bathroom. Small consolation. What troubled him most was the age of three devices, though they no longer worked. Probably disabled over time from the magic in the flat. 

He did not look forward to passing along this news. It was a terrible invasion of privacy for anyone, but for Malfoy it held the power to evoke the past. Harry knew from experience that some things are better left behind. This definitely qualified.

Putting aside his notes, he turned to the Pensieve. With confirmation that the video surveillance – presuming there hadn’t been others placed earlier and subsequently removed – had only been active since this break-in, there would be no historical pattern established. That made the job a little easier. Still, he wanted it to look natural. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed for long – with any luck his trackers would pick up a transmission shortly – but he wanted to provide as much of a break for Malfoy as he could.

As Malfoy’s memories swirled in the Pensieve, Harry saw once more the gift he’d given Draco piecing itself together. His heart had begun to race then and it did the same now. And at once he was immersed in his own memories of that day.

Harry had grown weary of remaining holed up in Grimmauld. While neither of them was ready or willing to share their relationship with anyone, he missed the freedom such shared knowledge could provide. So he’d devised a plan. Telling Draco to set aside the full day, he had a surprise in store.

Unsure if Draco would be amenable, but unwilling to chance the alternative, he’d decided on a day in the Muggle world. London remained too much of a risk, as so many witches and wizards spent time there – besides, they’d both explored London before – so he’d decided on Wales. Cardiff specifically.

The day remained a pleasant blur of sightseeing and shopping and people watching. They had walked along the water and slipped into all sorts of shops. Harry didn’t remember what shops or restaurants they’d gone into; all he remembered was the feeling of freedom, to just walk around, hand in hand, together, without a care in the world. Even now he treasured that feeling, something he’d never been able to recapture, even with Ginny, in the wizarding world. And, he just realised, he’d never even tried spending a day with her in the Muggle world.

Cardiff castle wasn’t Hogwarts, of course, but for them it was perfect, and Draco had been particularly fascinated by the animal wall. He’d mocked Harry relentlessly for – of course – liking the lions best, and had been somewhat affronted by the lack of a snake, or at least a serpent. And why, with dragons everywhere one went in Cardiff, had there not been at least one on the wall? Harry grinned at the memory. In the end, Draco had settled on the lynx as his favourite. Harry had pointed out that a lynx, like a lion, is just a big cat, but Draco had just told him to shut up.

They’d travelled incognito, making a few tweaks to their features, just in case. It had been strange looking at Draco in disguise, and he imagined Draco had felt the same way, but neither of them had changed their eyes and they hadn’t disguised their voices, so if they just focussed on those things, they were able to immerse themselves in the day.

Later that night when they were home – Harry’s home that had quickly felt like _their_ home – Harry’d presented Draco with his gift.

"But I didn’t get you anything," Draco’d said, though the sparkle in his eyes had told Harry he was pleased.

"I know. You don’t have to. I just ... well, I couldn’t resist." Draco had reached for it, but Harry’d held it back. "Now don’t laugh, because it’s Muggle. And really cheesy."

He’d rolled his eyes and reached out once more. "I would expect no less from you, Potter."

"It’s just ... well, I just wanted you to have something to remember our first date together, that’s all." Harry’d handed it over, just a little apprehensive now that the time had come. He’d expected to be mocked, or at the very least teased relentlessly, but Draco had surprised him. He’d simply smiled and opened it.

And, though Harry had expected derisive laughter, he’d smiled more brightly and said, "It’s brilliant."

"It’s a dragon. Like you."

Then the eyeroll had come. "Funny, but I’d managed to work that out all on my own."

"Shut up. At least I didn’t get you a red one. I figured you’d have something biting to say about it being Gryffindor colours."

But then he’d kissed Harry, like he’d never kissed him before. It had been the perfect end to the perfect day.

And then, three weeks later it was over.

And that was five years ago.

Only ... Draco had kept the dragon. And Harry had no idea what to make of that.

Harry put his fingers to his lips and swore he could still taste Draco’s kiss. 

His alarm jolted him back to the present. He checked his watch; Ginny should be home soon. He needed to find another place to work if he was expected to keep the case to himself, since he couldn’t be assured of privacy in his tiny cubicle at the Ministry. If he left now, he should have just enough time to work something out before going back to Draco’s.

When he arrived back at Draco’s flat, it was awkward, to say the least. The dragon, hidden away in a drawer in Draco’s bedroom, loomed over them. And after reliving that day in Cardiff, Harry found it a challenge not to stare. He kept running his tongue over his upper lip, trying to recapture that moment. He shook his head to clear away the memories. He was with Ginny now. They’d both moved on. He couldn’t get distracted, not with Draco’s life on the line – and yes, damn it, he was definitely Draco again. But the need to know – why had Draco kept such a silly souvenir if it had meant nothing to him? – kept interrupting his thoughts.

"Were you able to complete the list of missing items?" Harry’s voice came out raspier than he’d intended.

"What?" Draco jumped, startled out of wherever he’d gone. It seemed Harry wasn’t the only one lost in thought. "Oh, right." He grabbed a paper from the table and handed it to Harry. "Here you go."

Harry took the proffered page and looked over the list. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like none of these is actually yours." At Draco’s scowl, he continued. "I mean, none of these items was purchased by you. They’re all Malfoy items handed down to you, right?"

"Yes."

"And nothing from the Black side?"

"Ah, no."

There were only three things of note: the hand of glory kept, as Harry recalled, as a reminder of stupid choices; a tome from the Malfoy library; and a jewelled box, an heirloom Lucius had valued. Draco had never shown much interest in any of them.

The items destroyed, however, seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them. An indiscriminate act of force, probably just to rattle Draco. And rattle him it had.

Harry positioned himself with his back to known cameras and motioned towards Draco’s ring. Thankfully, he got the message and excused himself to use the washroom, conveniently leaving it behind when he returned.

"I’ve a few things to go over with you, if you would come with me." Draco nodded and Harry took his arm, Apparating them to the room he’d just set up.

"Subtle, Potter," he said as he withdrew his arm from Harry’s grasp and stared at the bed, looking suddenly terrified. "Just because I kept some stupid dragon doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you."

"What? Wait. No!" Harry took a moment to process the scene from Draco’s point of view and felt his face burn. "Oh, for fuck’s sake." He waved his wand, transfiguring the bed into a table and chairs. "I rented the space so I can work in private. I barely had time to secure it before returning to your flat."

Draco snorted. Apparently Harry’s discomfort emboldened him. "Work, eh?" He took a step closer to Harry and grasped his tie. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

Draco wasn’t fooling anyone with his false bravado. Harry had seen his fear when they’d landed in this room. That, more than anything, allowed him to regain his composure. "Oh, stop it. Don’t pretend this is any easier on you than it is me."

Draco shrugged. "Very well. Why have you – oh, Great and Powerful Auror Potter – dragged me to a seedy hotel room away from all prying eyes if you weren’t planning on taking advantage of my current, very vulnerable position? Whatever do you want from me?"

Harry knew this was Draco’s defence mechanism, throwing other people off their game, but knowing that didn’t prevent it from getting Harry riled all the same. Especially given the circumstances. _What did he want from Draco?_ Right now, Harry kinda wanted to punch him in the face. Which was a good thing, really, because it made him remember that he was supposed to be pissed off with Draco, not replaying long lost memories and thinking about what might have been. This was just another case. He was an Auror and Draco was a victim. He took a soothing breath and willed himself to be objective. 

"If you want to be a dick, Malfoy, you can simply Apparate home – there’s nothing preventing you – and I’ll carry on without bothering to inform you of my findings. If, however, you want to take this _threat on your fucking life_ seriously, you’re welcome to take a seat and listen."

Despite being chastised, Draco nonchalantly collapsed onto the sofa, crossed his legs imperiously and raised his brows. "Well? Inform me."

"Right. Well, after my second round searching your flat, I confirmed the fifteen devices. There’s the one in your ring and the three barely hidden ones."

"Which leaves eleven."

"Yes. Three of the remaining ones are old."

"You mentioned that before. Just how old are they?"

"About two years old."

Malfoy shot up. "What did you say? Two _years_?"

"Yeah, that’s the bad news."

He shot Harry a murderous look. "And there’s some sort of _good news_ about someone spying on me for two years?"

Harry dragged his hand through his hair and sat down on the chair facing Malfoy. "I wouldn’t call it _good_ news, no. But it’s less bad."

"Oh, well then," Malfoy said, a hint of panic in his voice now. "Less bad is just wonderful."

"No, it’s not." Harry sensed him winding up and he wasn’t sure how to calm him down. It wasn’t as if he could take Draco in his arms and talk him through it like he used to do when a panic attack took hold. Hopefully it didn’t come down to that. "The positive part about it is that the devices aren’t working. I can’t tell you how long ago they stopped working – not without looking at them to see when the last recording was made, if it’s been preserved – but it seems safe to say it’s been a while. My best guess is that the magic in your flat, most likely your wards, caused them to break down."

"Were those the ones with video too?"

"No. That’s the other positive news. There are only three video devices and they were placed there at the same time as the note was left. One each in your bedroom, the front room and the kitchen." 

Malfoy’s legs were bouncing slightly and he was wringing his hands, but otherwise he seemed to be keeping relatively calm. "So there were fifteen. Only six were left the other day, which leaves nine older ones. Three of those were really old and no longer working. That’s six more."

"Right. One is in your ring, two in the front room, one each in your entryway, kitchen and bedroom. They seem to be about four to six months old."

"Oh, God." His legs started bouncing again. "I think I’m going to be sick."

Harry panicked. Not sure what to do, he moved to sit down beside Draco, resting his leg against Draco’s bouncing one. "We’ll get whoever’s doing this. I promise."

Draco stared off into the distance, eyes glazed and unfocussed, breathing shallow and fast. Harry suspected he was back at Malfoy Manor, back when Voldemort and the Death Eaters had taken over the place and had roamed freely. 

Without thinking, he pressed his hand to Draco’s thigh, to stop the bouncing, and squeezed. "Hey, Malfoy." No response. "Draco!" Draco turned to face him, looking for all the world like he was surprised Harry was even there. "Hey." Harry squeezed his leg again. "It’s going to be okay."

"I don’t – I don’t think I can go back there."

"Then don’t."

His leg began to shake under Harry’s hand again. "But what about your plan to catch them?"

Harry released his leg and grabbed him gently by the upper arms, turning him so they faced each other. "Don’t worry about that."

"But –"

"Shh. Listen to me. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay." Harry’s hands acted of their own accord and rubbed circles on Draco’s shoulders as he tried to talk him down. "We’ll figure it out. We might catch a break when they transmit the first time – I’ve placed a trace on them so I’ll know when something happens. Since they aren’t transmitting constantly, you don’t have to be there for now. And if we don’t catch them that way, we’ll figure out something else. Trust me."

Draco nodded, taking in shaky breaths. After a time, he calmed somewhat. "I do," he whispered. He stared at Harry like a lost child and swallowed. "I trust you."

Harry smiled. "Good. Now try to relax."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. No problem. I’m all about relaxing."

"Can I get you something? A glass of water?"

"Sure. Yeah. Water’s good."

Harry released his arms and stood up. The moment he started to walk away, Draco wrapped his arms around his body and his legs began to bounce again. Harry quickly returned with the water. "Here you go. Drink up."

Draco took a sip while staring off into the distance again. Harry didn’t know what else to do.

"I can’t go back there," Draco said in a choked voice, looking at someplace only he could see. "Not now."

"It’s okay. You don’t have to. I can pick up whatever you need, if you want."

"No, I mean the manor. I can’t go there now, not like this."

"Okay." Once more Harry tried to settle the bouncing with a hand to Draco’s leg. Before his brain processed what he was going to say, words spilled forth, unbidden. "You can stay here. I’ve already put up wards to keep people out, and I’ve done a sweep of the room to ensure it’s secure."

"And no one’s watching?"

Harry shook his head. "No one’s watching or listening. It’s safe and secure."

"You’re sure?" He hugged himself tightly and it was everything Harry could do to resist doing the same, just taking him in his arms and telling him that he would make everything okay. That he’d protect him. 

"I’m positive." He waved his wand and the table transfigured back into a bed. "Why don’t you lie down?" Draco allowed himself to be led to the bed. Harry sat him down, removed his shoes, and nudged him under the covers. "I’ll go get you some tea from the restaurant downstairs and I’ll be right back, okay?"

Draco started to laugh, for no discernible reason. Just as Harry was starting to panic, he said, "See? I knew you wanted to get me into bed again."

Harry winced. What was he supposed to say to that? He’d never wish these circumstances on anyone, least of all Draco. No matter what had gone before, he knew he’d always want to protect this man. But he couldn’t say that. _Shouldn’t_ say that. Hell, he shouldn’t even think it. But, more to the point, he’d never take advantage of such a situation. Oh, and he was with Ginny. 

Draco stopped laughing. "Sorry. That wasn’t funny."

No, it definitely wasn’t. "It’s okay." What else was he to say?

"No, it’s not." Draco pulled the covers over his shoulders and turned to face away from Harry. "I’m so, so sorry, Harry." He took a couple of ragged breaths. "Sorry for everything."

Harry stood up, not knowing what to do. "I’ll get that tea for you now." Draco said nothing, so he fled.

When he got back upstairs, Draco was sound asleep. Probably for the best. He’d had an emotionally draining day to say the least.

Harry stayed for another half hour, watching Draco sleep and wondering what the hell he was doing. Ron would have told him he was mental. Hermione would have told him he was pulling his saviour thing again. And Ginny? She’d have told him he was a sucker.

Right. Ginny. She’d be home by now. He really ought to go there too.

He pulled two coins out of his pocket and waved his wand over them. He returned one to his pocket and placed the other on the night table with a note. "Press to contact me if you need anything. H."

He read the note over and spent a few more minutes watching Draco sleep, the crease between his eyes itching to be smoothed out. Harry resisted, but only just, and he thought that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all probably right about him. And in that moment, he just couldn’t bring himself to care.  



	6. Chapter 6

Harry stared at the door, wondering if Draco was already awake. Or if he was even still inside. He also wondered why in the bloody hell he always – always – managed to get himself into these situations. Well, not this precise situation, of course. But ... for some reason that may never be entirely clear to himself, Harry couldn’t just hand this case off. Nor could he, apparently, remain as angry as he bloody well should be at Draco. He’d just looked so _broken_ last night and Harry couldn’t help it. He couldn’t _not_ help him. Couldn’t just leave him to deal with his own shit. Merlin, he really was a sucker.

It was that fucking dragon. It had thrown him off. And then he’d had to, of course, relive that stupid day all over again. Stir up all those old feelings he’d tried to leave behind. Cut open the wound and leave himself open for ... what, exactly? More pain? God, he was an idiot. And then that stupid, masochistic side of him had kept poking at Harry, wondering if Draco really did still care. Because if he didn’t, why would he have kept such a trinket? It certainly didn’t match his taste, which was decidedly more upscale. 

When he’d got home, Ginny had already been asleep, which he’d been thankful for. He knew he couldn’t discuss the case with her, and knew she’d be angry at him for taking it – she still hated Draco and likely always would. But more than that, he doubted he’d have been able to school his features to hide just how shaken up he was. And she was stubborn. She would not have easily let that go. He’d spent a few restless hours replaying his and Ginny’s lives together over the past few years. It had been good. It was still good. Comfortable. Good friends. Supportive family. Everything was good. Really good. That spark they’d had back in school ... well, that always fades over time, right? You get to know each other and settle into a comfortable life. And that’s what they had. Bringing up some short-lived whirlwind whatever-it-had-been with Draco from years ago was stupid. It wasn’t healthy. They’d never have lasted anyway, right? But then that stupid dragon popped into his head again and his mind started reeling once more. Eventually, he’d managed to drop off to sleep.

In the clear light of the morning, however, he’d managed to rustle up a bit of anger as he focussed not on the good times he and Draco’d had, but on their last conversation. On how Draco had dismissed him as though he’d meant nothing. That _they’d_ meant nothing. That anger had prompted another thought, something he hadn’t considered while he was in Draco’s flat. Perhaps he’d kept the stupid thing as a reminder of just how wonderfully gullible Harry was. How he’d finally been able to best him at something. How he’d been able to hurt Harry. Really hurt him. Harry didn’t want to think that Draco was that horrible, but he’d been wrong about him before, hadn’t he?

He glared at the door and tried once more to channel his anger. Protect himself from his own weakness. And Draco was his weakness. But he was a fucking Auror, damn it, and he could do this. Maybe it would be better if Draco had already left. He took a few calming breaths, steeled himself and knocked. No response. He knocked again. "It’s me."

He heard some shuffling and then the door opened. _Well, shit._ Draco had clearly still been sleeping and he stood there looking ... _fuck_ ... like he’d just crawled out of bed. Not helpful. "This is _your_ hotel room," he said, stiffling a yawn. "You shouldn’t have to knock."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but I told you that you could stay here and –" He thought back to a night years ago when he’d accompanied Dumbledore to see Slughorn "– it would be rude to just barge in."

Draco blinked, straightened up and brushed off his sleeves, though Harry saw no evidence of anything there. "About that." He took a fortifying breath before looking Harry in the eyes. "I ... thank you. I don’t know what came over me."

"Relax," Harry said, going inside and closing the door behind him. "I can’t imagine how I would have reacted if I’d just found out that someone had been spying on me, in my home, for months, if not years. It’s understandable."

"Still. I don’t usually ..." He ran his hand through his hair and, unlike Harry’s, it settled neatly into place. Of course it did. "I’m generally pretty good at keeping it together."

"Right." Harry motioned towards the bed. "You done with that? I could use a table to work at." And I could really do without having a bed in the room with us.

Draco shook his head, clearly startled by the change of subject. "Oh. Uh, yes."

With a wave of his wand, Harry returned the bed to the table he’d transfigured the evening before along with a couple of chairs. Another wave and several items appeared on the surface. "Right," he said again, turning to face Draco who, thank Merlin, no longer looked like he’d just fallen out of bed. "Here’s the thing. You’ve been threatened, someone broke into your home, taking a few items and destroying others. You find out someone has been spying on you. Your family has no particular reason to trust the Aurors but you had no other option than coming to us. Then I show up and ... well ... I doubt that’s doing much for your nerves."

"I –"

"It’s not doing much for mine either, truth be told, but then I’m not the one under surveillance with threats being made against him. So. If you have a moment when you just can’t hold things together and keep that armour you wear against the world in place, I’d say that’s more than understandable."

"But –"

"You look like you’re feeling better today." Despite having just woken up, he did look more together, more himself. Less frazzled. That was a good thing. Harry might just be able to remember what a jerk he was if he didn’t fall apart again.

He nodded. "Yes, thanks."

"Better enough to get down to business?" Harry motioned for Draco to take a seat. Draco did, but kept looking at Harry. It was unnerving. "What?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" he finally said. "After ..." He didn’t finish the thought.

"It’s my job." 

"Seriously?" That seemed to piss him off. "It’s an Auror’s job to house victims when they have meltdowns? In their own place, no less."

"It’s just a hotel room."

"And it’s _yours_ right now."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I’ve been told – by more than a few people – that I have a saving people thing. Apparently I can’t shut that off." He stared meaningfully at Draco. "Even when I probably should."

"But –"

"Look," Harry said, a bit frustrated and more than a bit perplexed by his own actions the evening before. In the light of day, he really did think he might do well to seek professional help. "Don’t read anything into anything. For all we can skirt around the issue, I know you. I know what can get to you. That time when Voldemort was at the manor, it still haunts you. I have my own demons too." Draco made to interrupt, but Harry cut across him. "I knew what was happening and I did what I could to help. That’s all. And now, if you’re to be believed, the crisis has passed and you’re good to go again, yeah?" Draco nodded and Harry said, "Good. Because I’d like to catch this bastard and give you some peace. Then we can both move on with our lives and we never have to speak, ever again."

"I ... "

"So ... back at it, yeah?" Harry took out the three devices and placed them on the table. He scowled at them. "These, unless I’m mistaken, are Ministry issued."

Draco’s hands clenched into fists. "The Ministry is spying on me?"

Harry shook his head. "Not officially, no." At Draco’s raised brow, he elaborated. "I took the liberty of checking this morning before coming over here. There’s no official record of you being tracked. Your father, yes, but not like this. I can’t discuss specifics, but you know that he was under strict conditions in order to remain out of prison. You, however, are not."

"But you said –"

"I said they were Ministry issued. I did not say the _current_ Ministry. It looks to me like they were from the days around the war."

He let that sink in for a moment before Draco said, "So you think the Dark Lord ..."

"His followers, perhaps. He’d taken over the Ministry and I wouldn’t put it beyond some resourceful Death Eater or wannabe to scoop some of these for future use. Suffice it to say the record keeping from those days leaves a lot to be desired."

Draco looked like he might be sick. "So a _Death Eater_ is watching me?"

"Too soon to tell," Harry said. "But I thought you’d want to know. Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

Draco nodded and clenched his teeth. "What next?"

"I’d say that’s up to you." 

"How so?"

Harry pointed to the bugs. "I’m working the case, and will do the best I can. But if we need more help – forensics, for instance – that will mean involving more people. Which means others will have access to the recordings. Others at the Ministry."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

"Oh, I don’t know. That maybe you don’t want people hearing your business."

"I’ve done nothing wrong," he said, his voice defensive.

"Good to know. But are you sure there isn’t something, _anything_ that you wouldn’t want someone to know about you? Something you might have said out loud in your flat? Need I remind you how old some of these are? Can you remember every conversation you’ve had over the past two years?" 

"Fine, fine. I get your point."

"I hope so, because I couldn’t guarantee your privacy once these get handed over."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "But I’m supposed to be okay with you listening in?"

"Unless there’s a need for me to listen to the recordings, I have no intention of doing so."

"Yeah, right."

"You know what? As hard as you may find this to believe, I don’t actually give a shit what you’ve been doing for the past two years. Or five years, really." He was making it pretty easy for Harry to be angry with him now. "If the investigation requires me to listen to something – say, to determine how long the person or people have been listening in on you – I will do so. Other than that, I just. Don’t. Care."

Draco’s face hardened. "Fine."

"And if you don’t trust me to handle your case professionally, feel free to let Robards know and he’ll be sure to assign someone else to your case."

"I didn’t mean –"

"Whatever, Malfoy. I’ll do my job and I won’t invade your privacy. If there’s a need to listen to anything, I’ll let you know beforehand and you can say yes or no. If that’s not good enough, I don’t know what else to say."

"Harry –"

"Stop calling me Harry!" He stood up and dragged his hands through his hair. "You are _not_ my friend and I mean nothing to you, remember? Because I sure do." Draco looked like he’d been slapped in the face and Harry didn’t much give a shit. He put his hands on the table and leaned in, eyes boring into Draco’s. "All I am to you right now is the Auror that’s going to do his level best to catch the son of a bitch trying to scare you or kill you or whatever. All I need from you right now is to know that you’re okay with me investigating. If you are, then fine. I’ll let you know when the arsehole gets a transmission from the devices and then we can move forward. You can go back home and play like you have no idea you’re being watched." He reached for the Pensieve and sat back down. "Meanwhile, I’ll try to piece these memories together into something you can use for a hint of privacy."

"I –"

"Are we good? Everything clear? You okay with me continuing on the case?"

Draco pursed his lips and looked very much like someone who wanted to argue. Instead, through his teeth he said, "Fine. Stay on the case." He got up and gathered his things to go. "And I have your word you won’t –"

"For fuck’s sake, Malfoy. I told you I won’t poke around in your business. I honestly can’t think of anything I’d want to do less right now."

"Right." He stood there for a few moments but when Harry didn’t look up, eventually said, "You know where to find me."

"Yeah."

The silence left in the wake of Draco’s Apparition pressed in all around Harry. Well that went well. _Fuck_. Why did he let the stupid git get to him? As if Harry wanted to listen to Draco’s voice any more than he had to. Listen to him talking to anyone and everyone he brought over to his flat. Yeah, that would be a treat. It would serve him right if Harry handed the case off to someone else. Someone like Ron, who’d love nothing more than to root around in Draco’s private life, just looking for something to have on him, even if it wasn’t anything illegal.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and only just stopped himself yanking a wad of it out. No one but Draco – no one – could get him this worked up. He needed to calm the fuck down. His emotions were a roller coaster right now and he risked being sent to the Janus Thickey ward if he wasn’t careful.

He set to work putting together a reel of Days in the Life of Draco Malfoy, arsehole.

_What fun._


	7. Chapter 7

After a night of further torture, piecing together snippets of Draco’s memories to form a reel of recurring images to afford his ex some privacy in his own home, attempting all the while not to think back to the time he and Draco had spent together, Harry decided that he ought to direct some of his attention to his other cases. While none of them were immediate – leads had run dry or only follow-up paperwork was required before closing them – he did have more than just Draco to focus on. And it would probably be in his best interest to think about something else. Anything else.

When he’d had his fill of fruitless follow-up messages that received no answers and enough paperwork to overwhelm even Hermione – okay, maybe not Hermione, but she just wasn’t normal – he went back to Draco’s case. The devices had yet to transmit – presuming his spells were any good, which they were – so Harry followed his instincts in the meantime. He researched all known Death Eaters that remained at large or were presumed dead without actual bodies to confirm. Then he proceeded to research Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to the listening devices. To each list he added notations on their relationship with any of the Malfoys. Many of those details he’d have to get from Draco later. 

When, after several hours, he could no longer justify staying away, Harry made his way back to Draco’s flat. 

When Draco answered the door looking knackered, Harry cheered up a bit. After all, why should he be the only one put out by them being shoved together, so to speak? Then he caught himself, and a voice that sounded so very much like Hermione sounded in his head. _He’s a victim, Harry. You can’t wish ill will on him._ That was true. And he genuinely felt for Draco the victim, wouldn’t wish the current situation on him or most people. Harry would continue to do everything he could to solve this case as quickly as he could, and give Draco his life back. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t be comforted, just a little, by the _dis_ comfort of Draco his ex. Petty, yes, but he figured it was only fair.

"You’re here late today," Draco said by way of greeting. "I expected you earlier."

"Really?" Harry said, pushing his way past the insufferable git and into the flat. "I wasn’t aware we had an appointment." He received an eyeroll in response to which he replied, "You are aware I have other work to do, yeah? Yours is not my only case."

Draco’s face fell and he toppled himself into a chair in the front room. "Sorry. I wasn’t aware and ... well I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s only –"

"I get it. You’re worried."

"Of course I’m worried!"

Harry sighed. "Shall we try this again?" he asked. "Good morning, Malfoy. I went to the office earlier and stopped by to update you on the case." Draco nodded and Harry continued. "There was no magical signature left on either the note you provided or the three listening devices. They’d been wiped clean."

"So they’re dead ends, both of them?"

"It seems so. Ditto for the scan I did amongst the objects damaged. Magic was detected – it’s incredibly difficult to wipe all traces from a crime scene – but it wasn’t discernible. The person or persons who did this – are doing this – are skilled at the art of deception."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, but otherwise made no outward sign of discomfort.

Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled out his notebook. "Let’s sort through a few things, if you don’t mind."

Draco sat down in a chair across from Harry. "What do you need to know?"

Harry pulled out his quill and said, "Up ‘til now, I’ve focussed on the scene of the crime. Now I need to delve more into the possible motivation. Who, that you know of, might want to harm you?"

Draco snorted. "Wouldn’t a shorter list be those who _don’t_ want to harm me?"

"Okay." Harry took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Why don’t I leave that with you and you can compile your own list, working your way down from those you think might be at the top of the list? Meanwhile, let’s look at different aspects of your life. Think about your work, interests you might be vocal about, your family, your love life, your past. Is there anyone who might hate you? Be jealous of you? Feel slighted by you? Want revenge for some wrong, whether real or imagined?"

Draco once again crossed his arms over his chest, this time more tightly, almost curling into himself. "In other words, I need to tell you everyone I’ve ever wronged in my life, how I’ve wronged them, and how they felt about that."

Harry put down the quill. "I know this is hard."

"How could you know? Saint Potter never wronged anyone in his life, did he? Except perhaps me." His back went rigid. "And it’s not like anyone gives a toss about some wannabe Death Eater anyway."

Harry would not rise to the bait. He’d apologised for the Sectumsempra incident five years ago and Draco had – supposedly – forgiven him then. As Harry had forgiven Draco for his attempt at throwing an Unforgiveable at him. More than that, they’d forgiven each other for all their past wrongs, real or perceived, deciding to look ahead rather than back, and had moved on from there. Bringing up old wounds was merely a diversionary tactic and Harry wasn’t falling for it.

"Look, Malfoy, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. The more you tell me, the more I can explore the possibility that each person on your list might want to hurt you. If you don’t want to share the reasons behind it, don’t. I’d suggest that you would be better served if you did, but no one – not me, not anyone – will force you to disclose anything you don’t want to." 

Draco made a derisive grumble that made it clear he didn’t believe Harry.

"I am not investigating you. I am not digging into your life." Harry could do without knowing any more about what Draco’s been up to since ... "Need I remind you that you contacted us? I won’t pressure you into telling me what you’re not comfortable with, but I will ask you questions. Lots of questions. Personal questions. It’s entirely up to you what you disclose. But the more I know, the more likely I am to catch whoever is doing this."

"You’ll excuse me if I don’t jump for joy at your enthusiasm."

Harry laughed without humour. "Yeah, like this is my idea of fun." He put down the quill and rested his forearms on his knees. "You may not believe this of me, but I am a very private person. I loathe the intrusion of the media on my life."

Draco grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "Yeah, right."

"I know you think I basked in it, but I never did. I just wanted to be left alone. So, no matter what you believe, I understand your desire, your need for privacy. And I respect that. But it seems to me that whoever is threatening you has already breached that." Harry hated the constant prodding into every little aspect of his life and he cherished what semblance of privacy he’d managed to hold onto. But there was another aspect to this where Draco was concerned. "I have no interest in prosecuting you for past crimes or even looking for crimes where none exist. Personally, as far as you are concerned, I think the past is best left in the past, where it belongs. Unless you admit to outright murder, I will not use anything you tell me against you."

Draco looked skeptical but did seem to be giving Harry’s words serious consideration. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "You don’t. Not any more than I can trust you." Harry let that sink in for a while before he continued. "But I’m telling you the truth. Believe me or not. It makes no difference to me," he lied. It mattered more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, that Draco trust him. But he would be damned if he said that. "I’m not out to get you. I understand your mistrust of the Ministry and the Aurors, but I’m telling you that, as hard as this may be to believe, and despite our past, I will not betray your trust."

Draco spent a good while staring into Harry’s eyes. Harry let him. After a time, he said, "And my father?"

"Your father can rot in prison for all I care," Harry said without pause or emotion. "I will not extend the same courtesy to him, no matter who his son is."

Draco’s lip twitched. "Okay, I believe you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So, we agree that you’ll compile a list for me tonight?"

"Sure."

Harry, acutely aware of the cameras on them, said, "I have a few things I wanted you to look at. Do you have some time to spare right now?"

Draco sighed. "If it won’t take to long. I do have a job, you know. I’ve arranged for most of the week off, but I have several sensitive potions brewing that I need to at least check in on sometime today."

Harry stood up and put away his quill. "That shouldn’t be a problem. You can go right over after we’re done."

They apparated to the hotel and when Draco landed, he shook as though to rid himself of a coating of filth. "I can’t wait to get those things out of the place. Gives me the creeps, being watched like that."

Harry didn’t blame him. "Soon," he said. "Now, if you really want."

Draco ran his hands up and down his arms. "I definitely want, but I want to catch the person more. I think I can put up with it for a little while longer."

"Good." Harry gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "And if it gets too much, you can pop over here to escape for a bit." Before he could think too hard about why he’d offered that as an option _again_ , Harry motioned to the Pensieve on the table. "Meanwhile ..."

Draco’s eyes widened. "Did you finish?"

Harry shrugged. "It’s not going to win an Oscar, but it’ll do."

"It won’t what?"

"Sorry. Muggle reference. I won’t win an award for movie production, but it should be good enough to buy you a bit of privacy, at least in your living room. You can activate it while you’re out of the room – the bathroom is free of devices – and it’s set to direct the images at the camera and listening devices in the room. Then cast a localised cloaking spell for good measure and you should be fine."

"This’ll really work?"

"I don’t see why not." He waved his wand and the reel of memories lifted out of the Pensieve and swirled into a small box. "Just tap it with your wand and say, _exire incipere_." He picked up a coin from the table. "I’ve linked it to this. Just leave the coin in the centre of the coffee table before activating the spell and it should align the playback properly within the boundaries of the room. When you want to end the spell, position yourself in the room where your projected self is and end both spells at once. And make sure you’re wearing the same clothes."

Draco took the box and coin from Harry and put them in his pocket. "Thank you."

"Hopefully you won’t need it for long." He pushed the Pensieve aside and put some papers down on the table. "With any luck they’ll transmit soon and then we can rid your place of the rest."

Draco sat at the table and Harry slid the papers towards him. "What’s this?"

"I’ve come up with some information, and was hoping you could fill in some blanks for me." 

Draco scanned the pages. "When did you do all this?" he asked, looking genuinely curious. At Harry’s blank stare, he said, "This had to have taken you a while."

Harry nodded. "This morning. I told you I went to the office." He just hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d been unable to get back to sleep after waking at five o’clock, and rather than wake Ginny, he’d decided to grab some tea and toast, then head out right away.

"Yes, but to work on other cases."

Harry nodded again. "Which I did. And then I worked on this."

Draco laughed. Harry glared at him but said nothing. When finally his laughter faded into chuckles and then silence, Draco finally spoke. "Who would have thought? Harry Potter, one of the laziest students ever to ride Granger’s coattails – okay, maybe not as lazy as the weasel, but still – would actually make an effort at his job?" He chuckled again. "And here I thought you’d managed to work your way up the ranks so quickly because of your name." He wiped a tear from under his eye. "Turns out you’re actually good at your job."

Harry scowled, not sure why this should surprise him. Malfoy had never hidden how he’d felt about Harry in school. And it’s not like Harry hadn’t faced doubt from other people. But after everything ... he would have thought, hoped, that Draco knew him. Not, perhaps, as well as most, but ... well. Maybe he didn’t at that. "Glad to hear you still think so highly of me."

"Oh, come on, Harry – sorry, _Auror Potter_ " he corrected himself before Harry could. "I know you’re good at charging in where no one else would dare go, like the good little Gryffindor you are. Brave and noble and chivalrous and all that. And I even acknowledged the other day that you’re good at spells I’m sure few people know – this box, for instance." He tapped his pocket and looked at Harry as though waiting for thanks or something. "It’s just ... well, you were never one to have his nose in a book."

"I read!" Harry tried not to cringe at how defensive he sounded. Why was he letting Draco get to him like this, and how had they even veered off into this ridiculous conversation?

Draco stifled a laugh and tried fruitlessly to cover it with a cough. "Look, I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t smart. Just that the tedium required of research never struck me as something you would ever take much interest in."

He had a point, but Harry wasn’t going to admit that. "Look, Malfoy. I realise this may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but I grew up. I happen to like being an Auror. I also happen to be good at it. Yes, I still throw myself into situations that others might hesitate with, but I don’t do so without thought. I’ve learned to assess situations for potential danger and act accordingly." He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself, but explain he did. "And yes, I do research. Which happens to involve cracking open a book or ten. It may not be my favourite part of the job, but it’s a damn sight better than the paperwork after the fact. But I recognise the need for even that. Because I’ve been thrown into cases where there hasn’t been enough information transferred from other investigators, and I don’t want to put others in that situation. And don’t even get me started on the lawyers."

Draco chuckled at that. "Okay, okay, I get your point."

"Do you, though? I get the feeling you still think I’m this kid from school that broke the rules and – how did you put it? – rode on Hermione’s coattails. I was never the kid you thought I was at Hogwarts, even if bits and pieces of what you believe are true. Hell, I’m not even the kid I really was at school. Not anymore. I’ve changed a lot since then. If I ask Hermione for her insight from time to time, it’s because I respect her opinion. But make no mistake. I am my own man. I do my own work. I make my own decisions. And I got where I am today because I work hard, I do a damn good job and I care. I don’t ride on anyone’s coattails and I sure as hell didn’t get handed this job because of my name."

"I –"

"You don’t know me at all." Harry was on a roll now. "You never did. I thought, for a while there, that you might want to, but you never did, did you? Don’t bother answering. We both know it’s true. And you know what? I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on. It’s one of those things I’ve outgrown – blindly trusting my feelings." He laughed derisively. "You know, I suppose I should thank you for that."

"Harry, I –"

"Look, we’ve strayed way off course here. Can we just get back to business?"

"But –"

"You’re a potions master now, yeah?" 

Draco nodded, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Yes."

"Right, so if I were to laugh at you and suggest that you only got where you are today because you were a kiss-arse to Snape and got favourable treatment, and then used your father’s connections and substantial funds to buy your way into a lucrative position, you’d probably take offence at that, yeah?"

He pursed his lips. "Because it’s not true."

"Right. And I’m pretty sure I know that. Because, despite the fact that while we were in school that’s exactly what I thought of you, since then I’ve come to realise that, in hindsight, my view of who you were was through a biased lens. I never really knew you in school, just like you never really knew me. I get that. So when I hear that your potions are sought after far beyond England, I don’t find myself thinking, ‘Oh, hey, who would’ve thought that lazy kiss-arse would ever amount to anything?’ If – and this is a big if – I ever hear stuff like that, I just think, ‘Good for him.’ And maybe feel a bit hopeful that you’d finally got yourself out from under your father’s reach."

Harry hadn’t meant to say that last part. Hell, he hadn’t meant to say any of it. But he found himself unable to stop. Fucking. Talking. He really needed to wrap this case up and soon. Being around Draco was messing with his head and he didn’t like his emotions being so out of control.

"So, now that we’ve established that you’re still an arse, at least as it relates to me, let’s just get on with things, shall we?" He nudged the papers even closer to a now silent Draco. "For lack of a better place to start narrowing things down, I’ve drawn up a couple of lists. This one is of known Death Eaters. The ones at the top are alive, still at large, location unknown. This next group is assumed dead, but their bodies have never been recovered. The ones below the line are currently guests of Azkaban but with known relatives on the outside. The rest – dead and gone as well as those incarcerated with no known relative to seek revenge on their behalf – have been left off the list. The second, considerably longer list, is of Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to those devices in your flat."

Draco swallowed as he registered the number of people on the list. "And?"

"And I want you to tell me everything you know about each of them, in particular if any of these Ministry people were in contact with Voldemort or his Death Eaters and if anyone on either list bears any sort of grudge against you or your father." He pointed to a column on the Death Eater page. "I’ve jotted down what little I know about any connections to either of you, besides the obvious DE thing."

Draco read a couple of entries before asking, "Why my father, when I’m the one being threatened?"

"A few reasons. First, because of the items taken from your flat. They’re all Malfoy items. This may stretch beyond you. It could be your father is the target and they’re just using you to get to him." Harry had given this much thought, and despite Lucius being a grade A arsewipe, he had shown some evidence, however slight, that he cared for his son. "When Voldemort wanted to punish your father, he chose to assign you an impossible task, yeah?"

Draco’s face hardened, but he said, "Yes."

"And those in the inner circle watched as your father became a shell of a man."

"How –?" He looked puzzled before reluctantly saying, "Yes."

Harry pointed at the pages. "So what’s to say this isn’t history repeating itself? Maybe someone knows the best way to get to Lucius is through you or your mother."

"But we barely talk."

Harry smirked. "Your father is a master of deception. He’s good at making people believe what he wants them to believe. And you’ve admitted the same about yourself, so who really knows you don’t talk?"

Draco pursed his lips, as though poised to argue. "I see your point."

"Besides," Harry added, "your father is under Ministry watch. It would be much harder to get to him than you."

He laughed. "I imagine the Ministry folks keeping watch might enjoy the sight of someone take Lucius out."

"Can’t argue with you there." Harry might get some enjoyment out of that himself. "But whoever’s threatening you doesn’t know that. They would only see the Ministry presence, and maybe not want to risk it."

Draco put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. "I hadn’t thought about that."

Harry’d figured as much. "So let’s duplicate the lists, shall we?" He waved his wand and a second set of lists appeared. "One for your father and one for you."

Draco pulled back as if burned. "If you think I’m going to talk to my father about this –"

Harry held up his hands. "Relax. I only meant for you to fill them both out, one based on your father’s interactions and the other based on your own. The more information you can give me, the better." He motioned towards the lists. "As you can see, there are quite a number of people listed here. I’d like to narrow down my focus."

Draco pulled the lists towards himself. "I know less than you might think. I was nobody in Voldemort’s circle"

Harry pointed to Draco’s left arm. "That little tattoo there begs to differ."

His face turned red and blotchy as he looked down at his arm, the mark hidden by his sleeve. "Fuck off."

"I know he granted you the honour as punishment to your father, and I also know that you weren’t in the inner circle, despite the mark, but you lived at Death Eater headquarters."

"You mean Death Eater headquarters took over my home."

"Semantics."

"Pretty fucking important distinction."

"Sure, whatever."

"Not _whatever._ No one in my family wanted them at the manor. Especially ..." He shuddered.

"I’m sorry. I know you didn’t choose what happened. And it couldn’t have been easy." Harry could still see Draco’s face as he’d been forced to administer Voldemort’s punishment.

"Understatement."

"I know. I know what he made you do. And I have a pretty good idea of what you must have witnessed. And to have all that penetrate your home, your sanctuary. And all that while your father fell apart. It must have been horrible."

Draco’s eyes stared, unfocussed for a time and Harry spared a moment or two to feel badly for bringing the memories to the surface. Then Draco’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, you know _what he made me do_?"

Harry sighed. "It doesn’t matter. Just ... well, I know you –"

"No, no. You said specifically _what he made me do_. What do you mean by that? And don’t lie to me, Potter, because I’ll know."

Harry sighed again, resigned to telling his story once more. "I sort of lived inside Voldemort’s head some of the time."

"You what?"

Harry shrugged. "We had this ... connection of sorts. Sometimes, when his emotions ran high, I would see through his eyes, feel what he felt, experience what he did as though I were the one doing it." Draco stared in disbelief. "One of those times was just after Ron, Hermione and I had escaped two Death Eaters sent to catch us. He made you torture them. Or one at least. I only saw you Crucio the one."

Draco dragged his hands over his face. "You _saw_ me do that?" Harry nodded. "And you still testified for me?" Harry nodded again. "And then ... we ... you ... what is _wrong_ with you? Why would you –" He stopped abruptly and just stared at Harry.

Harry had asked himself those same questions many times. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Your guess is as good as mine. But as for testifying, what I saw was someone being _forced_ into doing what he didn’t want to do."

Draco stared at his hands. "You have to mean it or it won’t work."

Harry laughed but it was without humour. "So your Aunt Bella told me."

"What?"

Harry sighed again. He really didn’t want to relive every part of that time. He really didn’t. "She’d killed my godfather, Sirius, her own cousin, and she was so very pleased with herself. She was taunting me and laughing about it, so I went after her. I threw a Crucio at her and she laughed some more. Said I’d really have to _mean it_ if I wanted it to really work."

"You Crucioed my aunt?" Harry nodded. "And you lived to tell about it?"

Harry snorted. "I lived through the killing curse from her boss, so ..." He didn’t bother elaborating. "Anyway, I realised later that she’d been right. When I Crucioed Amycus Carrow, I really meant it. And he felt it."

Draco laughed. "I bet he did. What did he do?"

Harry shrugged. "Spit on McGonagall."

"He –"

"Never mind that. Can we not go through a play-by-play of the war, please?"

Draco sat smirking at Harry. "I can’t believe you, Saint Potter, cast an Unforgiveable."

"Yeah, well ... I Imperioed some people too." When Draco’s jaw dropped again, he said, "And don’t call me that. I did what I had to do and I did tell you before that I’m not perfect. Or saintly. Or anything close. But all’s fair and all that, right?"

"I still can’t believe it."

"Believe it. Don’t believe it. It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s in the past, and I hope to never have to do that again. So can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Sure." Draco gave him a strange look, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to work out what that meant. "What was that again?"

Harry pushed the papers back towards Draco. "The lists. Tell me if anyone on the list of Ministry employees was someone you remember your dad talking to or having over to the manor. Or maybe another Death Eater talked about them. And which people might hold a grudge against you or your dad, on either list. Anything we can do to narrow the list or focus on a handful of suspects at a time would be great."

"Do you really think this will help?"

"I don’t know, but I need to cover every angle, and I don’t have time to investigate everyone."

Draco picked up one of the lists of Death Eaters and shuddered. "I’ll do my best."

 

TBC  



	8. Chapter 8

After a couple of hours, Draco stood and stretched. Harry looked away. They’d sat without speaking the whole time, each of them lost in his own work and Harry’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to hate Draco. Or something. Be angry with him anyway.

"I’ve got to go look in on those potions now." He stretched some more and Harry tried to will away memories of another time, another place. "I’ve made some headway on the lists. Not much fun, that."

Harry grimaced. "No, I wouldn’t imagine it would be."

He wrung his hands nervously. "I don’t think I should work on that at my place." He nodded towards the table. "Eyes all around me."

"Oh. Of course," Harry said. "You can leave it here and come back whenever you’d like. You know. To work on it."

"Right. I will then."

Merlin, this was awkward. "I might be gone when you get back, but that’s okay. The wards will remain open for you, even if I’m not here."

Draco frowned. "You’re okay with that?"

He shrugged. "I don’t live here. I just work here for the time being. It’s no bother."

"Okay then." He took out his wand. "I’ll see you later. Or not."

Probably not. Harry ought to get home early tonight. Before Ginny headed off for another out of town game. Maybe even have a meal together. For a change. "Yeah. See you later."

Draco raised his wand to Apparate, then lowered his arm. "You were wrong, you know. Earlier. What you said." He looked directly at Harry as thought he’d understand. "I did want to know you." 

_Oh._

"Still do." And then he Apparated away, leaving an echoing crack and a world of confusion in his wake.

_What the fuck?_

You don’t just go around saying something like that and then vanishing. Who does that?

Hours later, when Draco still hadn’t returned and Harry gave it up for the day, his mind was still racing. He’d replayed Draco’s parting words a hundred times at least that afternoon. What did he mean? That he wanted to know Harry, obviously. But how? As what? A friend? A lover? A means to an end? He couldn’t equate Draco’s past actions with the notion that he gave even the slightest shit about Harry.

He packed up the files he needed to keep secure and went home, where he found a note on the kitchen table from Ginny. _Not sure if I mentioned before, but I made plans to head out with some friends tonight. Don’t wait up. If I’m too late, I’ll just bunk at Luna’s so I don’t wake you. See you tomorrow? G._

Harry found himself inexplicably relieved at not having to face her. He didn’t recall any conversation about her going out tonight – he would have remembered, wouldn’t he? – but he wasn’t bothered by it. He and Gin often did their own thing, what with their conflicting schedules and irregular hours. That was part of what he liked about living with Ginny. He never felt tied down, or like he had to check in for every little thing. And he had lots of time to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. What did that say about their relationship? Were they just roommates with benefits? And did it even matter? He’d grown comfortable with this arrangement, he reasoned. Besides, he knew he wouldn’t be much good company tonight with his mind racing all over the place.

He poured himself a generous measure of firewhiskey and tried to relax. Predictably, as soon as he closed his eyes, a snarky blond was all he could see. Only it wasn’t the present-day Draco infiltrating his thoughts; it was a replay of scenes from their past. Little snippets here and there of their time together, stolen moments in the cocoon they’d built around themselves, in their own little world.

Then his thoughts settled on their first kiss. They’d both been working since early that morning at Hogwarts, as part of the rebuilding effort, and it had been time to head home for the day. As they’d made their way across their section of the castle, Draco had lost his footing and had grabbed the closest thing he could to steady himself. That thing had been Harry and, not expecting the pull, rather than keeping Draco upright, he’d toppled over, bringing Draco crashing down on top of him. They’d both been so startled that they’d just stayed there, unmoving. Then Harry had caught Draco’s eye and they lay there, staring at each other, breathing each other’s air, until Draco’s eyes flicked briefly to Harry’s lips. Harry had licked them without even thinking and something flashed in Draco’s eyes. To this day, Harry couldn’t say who’d closed the distance between them, but he would always remember the taste, the feel of Draco’s lips on his own for the first time.

Without conscious effort, he’d wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled their bodies together, as closely as their clothes would allow. When Draco’s tongue pressed past his parted lips, Harry had moaned and rolled his hips shamelessly. Draco’s breath had caught momentarily before he’d responded with a press of his own hips. A dam had burst then and the weight of all they’d been through and the pressure of all their frustrations, built up over years, finally had found release, and there’d been no holding it back. Harry’d moved his hands down to grab Draco’s arse and draw him even closer, both of them rubbing their hard lengths together again and again and again. They’d rocked together like the desperately randy young men they were, tongues exploring hungrily, both drinking in each other’s gasps and moans like lifelines, nothing else in the whole world in that moment but the two of them.

Harry would have been embarrassed by how quickly he’d come, if Draco hadn’t been right there with him. He’d clung to Draco through the shudders as they both came down from their high, until the realisation of what they’d just done had had a chance to settle over them.

"Well, that was ..." Draco had said, his forehead resting on Harry’s and both of them still panting for air.

Harry had taken the opportunity to run his fingers through Draco’s hair, not sure if he’d ever get the chance again. "Hot?" Harry’d suggested.

Draco had lifted his head and smirked at Harry. "I was going to say _unexpected_ , but yeah. It was also very hot."

Harry had laughed and soon Draco had joined him, the whole situation suddenly hilarious. "Don’t take this the wrong way," Harry had said once their laughter had died down, "but this is getting rather uncomfortable."

"Sorry." Draco’d lifted himself off Harry, but Harry’d reached up to stop him.

"I didn’t mean _you,_ " he’d been quick to correct. "I meant ..." He’d waved a hand towards his crotch. "Sticky."

"Ugh." Draco’s face had flamed scarlet. "Must you be so crass?"

Harry’d laughed again and reversed their positions, flipping Draco onto his back. Then he’d pressed their groins together.

"Ugh!" Draco said again. "Animal!"

Still laughing, Harry’d pulled out his wand and waved it over the both of them. "Better?"

Draco’d nodded. "Much."

Harry had watched as Draco’s brows had slowly come together. He’d opened his mouth, no doubt to say something completely stupid, something about it all being a mistake, so Harry’d shut him up with a kiss. When Draco had wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, drawn him in and melted into the kiss, he’d known it had been the right thing to do.

Harry opened his eyes and groaned. His traitorous body – certain parts anyway – most definitely liked that particular memory. What was wrong with him? He was with Ginny. They were happy, weren’t they? He and Draco – there was no Harry and Draco. Not anymore. And if Draco’s parting words five years ago had been honest – something that was perhaps in question right now – there never really had been. 

He swigged back the rest of his firewhiskey and ran his hands through his hair. Why was he obsessing about someone who, for lack of a better way to put it, had thrown him aside like he was nothing? He hadn’t wanted to believe Draco at the time, but when so much time had passed with no contact, he’d decided to just accept it and move on with his life. Only, if his current thoughts were any indication, he hadn’t really moved on, had he? And what was Draco playing at now, telling Harry he wanted to know him?

Harry ran his tongue over his lips, once more feeling the ghost of Draco’s mouth against his own. Fucking hell, he needed to get a grip. Okay, it had been a while since he and Ginny had ... well. Only he wasn’t thinking of her. It wasn’t her smooth curves and soft touch he craved right now. It was hard angles and a sharp tongue and the excitement of it all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this worked up over her. If he ever had been. Again, what was wrong with him? He lived with a woman who loved him and he loved her. Perhaps not as passionately as ... well, he loved her. It must just be that he and Draco had never really had closure. Just an abrupt end to something that had been so fresh and new and exhilarating. And now he’d been thrown into working with him. Draco was vulnerable, and wasn’t everyone always telling Harry how he had a saving people thing? That had to be it.

Harry didn’t sleep well. No surprise there. As it turned out, Ginny didn’t come home that night and Harry woke to an empty bed. Just as well, since he was hard as a rock and it wasn’t Ginny that had featured in his dreams. He didn’t know how he’d face her when he saw her that night. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d face Draco if their paths crossed today. Which they probably would. Pushing those thoughts aside, he dragged himself to the bathroom for a shower and a wank before heading directly to the hotel. He might as well get some work done if he couldn’t sleep.

Only when he got there, it was to find that Draco was already there. Of course he was. Because that was just how things went, wasn’t it?

Draco jumped when he landed with a crack. "Oh, sorry," Harry said. "I didn’t realise you’d be here."

Draco, recovered from the initial shock of Harry’s arrival, rolled his eyes. "Again. Your place. Stop apologising."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, trying to get a grip on things. He was having trouble _not_ rerunning scene after scene from the past over in his mind. "Right." 

"I got busy at the lab – one of my more finicky potions – and didn’t get out of there until late, so I didn’t get a chance to work on the lists last night. So I thought I’d drop by early today." He stopped, only just now taking in Harry’s appearance. "You look like shit."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Rough night?"

Anger flared in Harry. Yes, he’d had a rough night and it was all Draco’s fault. With his mixed messaging and gorgeous eyes and kissable mouth and –. "Coffee?" he said, if only to stop the train of his own thoughts and to avoid yelling at Draco simply because Harry’s libido couldn’t shut itself off the night before. Which really wasn’t Draco’s fault. Not entirely, anyway. "I didn’t get much sleep last night and I could use a vat of it."

Draco’s face hardened and a flare of anger crossed his eyes. Harry’s heart jumped. Surely he wasn’t jealous? Harry’s eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because the look disappeared as quickly as it had come. Either that or the masochistic side of Harry was playing with him, looking for signs that weren’t there. All the same, he found himself spilling unbidden words. "Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I wasn’t out partying into the wee hours or anything like that. I just couldn’t sleep and I’m in desperate need of caffeine if I’m going to function today."

"No wild child antics allowed for the next Head Auror," Draco said, his tone teasing and light. "After all, what would the Minister say?"

Harry laughed. "He’d probably say, good on me, to be honest." At Draco’s raised brow, he added, "He has been known to tell me that I work too hard and ought to get a life."

"Has he now?"

"Yeah. Something about not being the only Auror on the force."

Draco snorted. "I’d say something, because you really do make it so easy, but the last time I tried teasing you, I got an earful. And you without caffeine – as I recall, you aren’t the most cheerful without sleep. So, off you go and get us some coffee. A vat of it, as you say."

Harry wanted to argue, really he did, but something made him push down the desire. He remained wary of anything resembling friendly banter with Draco. But he couldn’t deny that it felt good. Normal. Comforting, even.

He returned with two cups – not a vat – reasoning that he could go downstairs and get more as he needed it. He handed Draco his cup then took a long sip from his own. He moaned with pleasure as he willed the power of the caffeine to do its job.

Nearly choking on his words, Draco said, "Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?"

Harry kept his eyes closed and hummed as he took another sip. "Best. Coffee. In town." He took a third sip, enjoying the burn of the hot liquid as it made its way into his system. "Hands down."

Draco tutted. "If you think this is good – which, admittedly, it is – you’d love this little cafe in Venice, near the Doge’s Palace." When Harry cracked his eyes open, taking a break from savouring the liquid gold he was consuming, Draco said, "Seriously. To. Die. For."

Harry put down his cup and considered him. "You are such a pompous arse."

Draco smirked and raised his cup in a toast. "And you, sir, are a plebeian."

Harry chuckled and picked up his cup again. "Guilty as charged."

"You know, you really should try leaving the country on occasion, or at least venturing out of your own backyard once in a while." Draco sipped his coffee and looked down at his list to scribble something. "Expand your horizons. You can certainly afford it and you might find it does you some good."

How Draco knew he didn’t travel, he couldn’t say, though the papers remained relentless even now about every minute detail of his life. Harry thought about the travels he, Ron and Hermione had gone on during the war. Some of the places they’d seen had been nice enough, if they’d had the opportunity to explore without the constant threat of death and destruction looming. Then he thought of that day in Wales, and how free he’d felt, just being that little bit removed from home.

He looked at Draco and immediately knew he’d been thinking the same thing. He put down his coffee. "What did you mean yesterday when you said that I’d been wrong, that you _had_ wanted to know me? That you still do?"

Draco sighed, the sound of someone who knows an inevitable conversation was finally upon him. He shrugged. "Just that. You seem to think that I never wanted to know you, never gave a damn, I suppose." Harry made to argue, but Draco continued. "I know it’s my fault you think that. What I said that day. But ... well, I did want to –" 

A buzzing sound came from Harry’s pocket and he removed a flat stone that shook and glowed in his palm. He looked up at Draco with a smile. "At least one of the devices is transmitting."

Draco stared at the object buzzing in Harry’s hand. "Do you know to where?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope, this is just the alert. We’ll have to go to your place to trace it."

Draco stood up. "Let’s go then."

"Wait until it stops," Harry said, grabbing his arm to prevent him going for his wand and Apparating, "or we might risk whoever it is seeing us arrive and catching on."

They sat staring at the stone, waiting, Harry able to feel Draco’s heart racing where he still held lightly onto his wrist. When the buzzing stopped, he squeezed Draco’s wrist before letting go. "Ready?"

"Hell, yes."

"Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll come to the door? In case another starts to transmit."

Draco nodded and Apparated. Harry followed a moment later, knocking on Draco’s door when he arrived. When Draco let him in, he said, "I got a spell from someone at the Ministry. It should help cloak your place, in case someone gets in again. They said it should work in case someone tries to listen in on you again. The spell needs to be renewed every three to six months, depending on how strong your casting is."

Draco looked confused, but Harry waved his wand, causing interference – similar to a Muffliato or throwing a blanket over a camera – on all the remaining devices. Once they could no longer pick up any audio or video, he gathered them all to him and put them into an evidence bag.

"What was all that about?" Draco asked.

"In case they try transmitting later, we can trace that too, and they’ll just think the signal cut out, with us none the wiser."

"You think that’ll work?"

Harry shrugged. "I’m hoping we catch them with this trace, but it never hurts to have a plan B."

"And what precisely is your plan?"

"Plan A is to trace the signal." Harry waved his wand in an intricate motion and a light blue haze circled the room before drifting through the glass pane of the window. "I’ll get the results back at the office within a few hours, with any luck sooner. It’s not a precise spell, but I should be able to narrow it down to a neighbourhood at least. Then I compare to known sightings of the people on your lists and hopefully get a match."

"And if you don’t?"

Harry shook the evidence bag. "I look for magical signatures on these babies. The spell is invasive and would trigger an alert, if they’re set up for such a thing, which is why I didn’t do that first. But now that I’ve devised a plausible reason for them to not transmit, I can be more aggressive with my spells."

"Should we go back to the hotel?" Draco asked.

"No, I’ll need to do this at the Ministry. Are you done with the lists?"

"I might be able to add more information, but take them for now. I can do that later."

"Okay. I’ll let you know when I’ve got something. Do you still have the coin I left you?"

Draco blinked in confusion before he registered what Harry meant. He drew the coin Harry’d left for him from his pocket. "Yes."

"Good. I’ll send you a message before I come over and you can let me know if it’s a good time."

"Sure. Okay."

"This is a good thing," Harry said when he sensed Draco’s frustration. "We have something to do now."

"You mean _you_ have something to do. I just have to sit around and wait."

"In case it has escaped you, it is, in fact, my _job_ to do this."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you could sit back patiently while someone else looked for a person threatening you."

Harry grinned. "Well, no, I couldn’t. Obviously. But I am an Auror. I’d be a pretty shitty one if I didn’t want to go out and –"

"Save the world, yes, I know." He shooed Harry away with a wave of his hand. "Go on, then."

"Cheer up. This whole nightmare may be over soon and you can get back to your life."

Harry Apparated to his office, but not before seeing the scowl on Draco’s face and hearing a familiar distant and sarcastic tone, the words sounding an awful lot like, "Yeah, and that was so great."  



	9. Chapter 9

Harry sat down to work straight away, scanning the various devices. There were two clear sets of magical signatures – one residual on the old, no longer working ones that oddly matched the clear one contained within Draco's ring. The second was all over the remaining devices, including the video enabled ones. The newer ones had evidence of tampering, an unsuccessful attempt at wiping, or at least obscuring, the signature, but enough remained to match to the others.

Now that he'd isolated the signatures, the hard work would begin: matching to those on file. Ordinarily, Harry would have handed this work over to the lab for analysis but he opted to do what he could himself for now. If he couldn't narrow it down – he was no Albus Dumbledore after all – Harry would get Draco's okay before involving others. But he'd done this work before and the signatures seemed pretty clear, so he was reasonably confident he could manage.

He decided to start with known Death Eaters. A mere two hours later, he'd hit pay dirt. And found himself quite ill at the results: it seemed Lucius Malfoy knew no boundaries when it involved controlling others, even his own son. Perhaps especially his own son. It explained a lot, though. Harry had wondered who could possibly have placed something inside Draco's Malfoy family ring. But that also meant the bastard had been the one spying on his son for two years.

This made Harry both furious and relieved. Relieved because it likely meant that the person after Draco had started his or her campaign relatively recently. Furious because ... well. The man never ceased to amaze Harry with his utter contempt of others and his inflated sense of self-worth and importance. It would give Harry great pleasure to knock the smug bastard down a few hundred notches. Again. If it weren’t for the fact that he was Draco’s father. Still. A few well-placed spells to make his life utterly miserable couldn’t be that bad a thing, could it? It was times like these Harry regretted – just a little – the anti-corruption measures he’d helped Kingsley implement at the Ministry. And yet ... he doubted anyone would come after him for doing to Lucius what he well deserved.

 _Fuck_. He didn't cherish being the one to tell Draco that his dad was an even bigger dick than they'd already known. Though Harry didn't honestly believe Lucius meant any real harm to Draco, he didn't doubt for a moment that he wanted to control him. Even after everything he’d put his family through, he had the nerve to do something so intrusive. The man was a loathsome human being. Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration, no doubt leaving it more of a bird’s nest than usual. The inability to dole out the punishment that fuckwit deserved threatened to drive him mad. He shook off his anger for the moment to focus elsewhere.

Now, on to the more problematic discovery: Thorfinn Rowle. Assumed dead after the war, efforts to find him had gone cold and had dwindled to an occasional revisit of his file when a sighting of some Death Eater or another came in. Harry looked forward to the day they might have enough resources to pull all the cold DE files and close them properly. No body, no closed file, no rest until all Death Eaters at large were incarcerated or in the ground.

He pulled Rowle's file and briefed himself on all the notes made. He'd been one of the Death Eaters that Voldemort had broken out of Azkaban, so his crimes dated quite far back. There were cursory notes on known associates, family and prior addresses. He saw his own statements about how Rowle had been one of the Death Eaters to break into Hogwarts, and had set Hagrid’s hut alight with Fang still inside in their sixth year. And again his notes from the Battle of Hogwarts.

Harry also remembered Rowle – though there were no notes about this on file – as one of the Death Eaters that had attacked him, Ron and Hermione in the Tottenham Court Road cafe after the Ministry had fallen. And he saw Rowle's face once more, through Voldemort's eyes, watched again as Draco had Crucioed him. Watched as Rowle had revelled in Lucius' humiliation at Voldemort's hand.

Oh, yes, Rowle had ample reason to want either or both of the Malfoy men punished for moving on with their lives while he – no worse in his own mind, and no doubt leagues above them, in his estimation, for remaining loyal – was relegated to living his life in the shadows.

Harry spent the rest of the day studying Rowle's file for anything he might be able to use to catch the Death Eater that wanted Draco dead. Frankly, he'd be more than pleased if Rowle caught up with Lucius, though he doubted Draco would appreciate that sentiment. Such that he was, Lucius remained Draco’s father. Besides, Harry wouldn't want to see Narcissa hurt and he doubted Rowle would hesitate to kill her to get to Lucius. Or just for the fun of it. He’d been the one to kill his own fellow at Hogwarts, flinging curses around carelessly, so what was the wife and mother of his enemies worth anyway? Harry didn't think Draco would suffer much for the loss off his dickhead dad – would likely be far better off for his absence – but his mother was another story.

When finally his trace came back, Harry was so deeply immersed in the file, he didn't register the soft buzzing right away.

"What's that you're working on?" Ron asked, bringing him out of the criminal life and times of Thorfinn Rowle.

Harry resisted the urge to cover up the file. He'd been careful not to leave open anything that made reference to Draco, and he had his cover story ready. Truth be told, he was surprised Ron hadn't come nosing around before now.

"Cold case."

"Oh, yeah? New leads?"

Harry nodded. "Not much. Just a magical signature detected for a presumed-dead Death Eater." Ron looked excited, so Harry derailed him quickly. "No indication it's recent, so just the usual follow-up. Probably a dead end. No pun intended." He closed the file casually. "You still on the Muggle baiting case in Yorkshire?"

"Yeah. Heading for an overnight soon. That's why I came by. Hermione's been looking forward to seeing you and Gin tonight." Harry cringed. He'd completely forgotten their plans. Ron laughed as he caught Harry’s reaction. "Thought it might've slipped your mind. No worries, mate. With me gone, 'Mione asked if she thought you'd mind if the two of them made it a girls' night instead."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He was beginning to wonder if he’d even see Ginny before she left again. "I mean, no, I don’t mind."

"I won't tell a soul you forgot."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Thanks." He looked at his watch. "Time for a coffee before you go?" He could use the caffeine before diving into the trace results and – what promised to be even more trying – heading over to break the news to Draco. He'd prefer to delay that a while longer.

"Sorry. We leave in ten and I still have to pack my kit. Rain check, though."

"Sure. Good luck. Hope the trip is worth it."

Ron shrugged. "There's that pub with the great shepherd's pie over there, so it won't be a total loss, even if we don't catch the guy."

"Silver linings," Harry agreed, amazed that his friend probably knew a pub with a great something-or-other in every town in England by now.

"I'll pass along your sincere disappointment to Hermione."

Harry laughed. "Bit much, mate."

"Right. I’ll tell her you’re okay with her stealing Gin away for the night."

"Thanks."

Once Ron left, Harry abandoned his idea for coffee and dove back into the case. He followed the trace where it led and now he had a neighbourhood to go with the rest. As he’d expected, there was no mention of a family home in that area, but perhaps Draco would know more. His stomach clenched. He really, really didn’t want to be the one to tell him about Lucius. He made a duplicate of Rowle’s file and returned the original to cold case storage. Now out of excuses to delay any longer, he spelled "Now okay?" onto the coin and pressed his thumb to it. Before he’d even finished clearing his desk, he felt it burn in his pocket. "Sure."

Steeling himself for the unpleasantness to come, he Apparated outside Draco’s door and knocked.

The door flung open and Draco said, "Taking this politeness a bit far, aren’t you?"

"What?"

"You already warned me. You could have Apparated inside."

Harry shrugged. "Force of habit, I suppose. We don’t exactly Apparate into people’s places."

"Well, come on in, then." He waved Harry past, closed the door and followed him into the living room. "What do you have?"

"Could we maybe have a cup of tea?"

Draco’s face fell. "Is it that bad?"

"Maybe some firewhiskey for you?"

Draco sat down. "Just spit it out."

Harry removed the file from his pocket at returned it to regular size. "Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?" Not that he knew which was worse overall.

"Just tell me already."

Harry ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Well, there were two distinct magical signatures that I found, and both were a match to known Death Eaters."

"No big surprise there."

"One was presumed dead. Thorfinn Rowle."

Draco’s back stiffened. "Fuck."

"Yeah. Sadistic bastard, from what I’ve read on his file."

"And he can probably still feel the Crucio I threw at him."

Harry nodded, unsure how he could soften the next blow. Deciding he might as well do it all at once, like removing a plaster, he went for it. "And the other was ... your father."

"My ..." Draco went pale. No, that wasn’t quite right. He turned an unhealthy shade of grey. Not that any shade of grey would be healthy, but ... well ... he looked ill.

"Your father," Harry repeated. "Your ring."

Draco clenched his teeth. "Of course."

"And the old ones, the ones that don’t work anymore."

Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was going to throw something or throw up. It could go either way. "So what you’re telling me is ... my father has been spying on me for two years?"

Harry rather thought it was more like his entire life, but he didn’t see the benefit of pointing that out just now. "It appears so."

Draco jumped to his feet and began pacing. "The one fucking time he came over here. The day before I moved in. I’d shown them the place. I’d told Mother about it and she showed up with him in tow." His eyes flared as he looked at Harry. "I didn’t want to let him in, but Mother had him by the arm and was ushering him past before I could stop her." He paced the room a couple more times. Harry didn’t say anything. "The bastard must have planted them that day without either of us noticing." He stopped in front of Harry. "Who does that?"

Harry scrambled for something to say, but obviously it had been rhetorical, because Draco resumed his pacing without waiting for an answer. He mumbled under his breath and Harry caught a few expletives coupled with _bastard_ and _arsehole_. Harry neither disagreed nor added to the conversation. Instead, he got up and poured Draco a finger of Firewhiskey. Draco took it, swigged it back and slammed the glass onto the table as he sat down. "That fucker!"

"I –" Harry began.

Draco stood up again. "I need to go see him." He grabbed a travelling cloak and put it on. "Find out what the fuck he was thinking." He looked at Harry. "Do you have the ring?"

Harry nodded and pulled the evidence bag out of his pocket. He withdrew the ring. "I should keep the rest of this as evidence."

"Fine. Whatever." He put on the ring with a look of disgust on his face. "But I think I’d like to shove this – along with my fist – down his throat right now."

Harry stood up. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Why?" He whirled on Harry. "Are you going to protect him?"

Harry didn’t want to, but suspected duty might require exactly that. "I was thinking more along the lines of providing moral support." Draco snorted. "Or stopping you from committing patricide and landing yourself in prison." Draco glared. "Or, if that’s not possible, help you hide the body?" he ventured.

"I may laugh about that someday," Draco said. "And I’m sure I’ll amuse myself by replaying this memory in my Pensieve from time to time." He steeled himself. "But for now, I’ll just respectfully decline your offer of assistance and assure you that I will not rid the earth of my father’s presence. Not today, anyway."

"We could discuss Rowle?" 

"Nice try," Draco said, closing the clasp of his cloak and smoothing the material. "But I think I need to confront him now. While I’m good and mad. Mother too, for being so stupidly naive as to continue to trust him and push for us to get along."

"Are you sure?"

He gave Harry his _don’t be a fucking idiot_ look. "I’m so bloody tired of playing nice around him. It’s high time I give him a piece of my mind, and right now I’m likely as mad as I’ll ever be. And I think it’ll do me some good to unleash on the fucker while I’m in this state. And it’s also likely to be the only time I’m mad enough not to let Mother stop me."

"Okay," Harry said warily. "But if you need anything ..."

He rolled his eyes. "You can’t save me from my idiot father, so don’t even try. Especially since I do realise how you feel about him yourself."

"I’ll just be on my way then, yeah? Let me know when you’re ready to talk about Rowle. Meanwhile, I’ll keep trying to work out a plan to catch him."

"I’m not sure I’ll be ready to talk about anything before tomorrow, but I’ll let you know."

"Fair enough." With more than a bit of trepidation, Harry Apparated home, hoping that he wouldn’t get called out later that night to investigate a murder in Wiltshire.

He’d locked away his work files, changed into his favourite jeans and a t-shirt and had just put the kettle on when Ginny came in. "I’d kill for an Earl Grey right now," she said in greeting.

"Hello to you too," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Rough day?"

"Coach is working us like mad for this weekend’s match. I hurt where I didn’t even know I had muscles." She rolled her neck back and forth and rubbed her hand over it.

"Why don’t you go have a long, hot shower and I’ll have your tea ready for you when you get out?"

"Sounds perfect. What time do we have to go round to my darling brother’s?"

"Ah," he said, presuming she’d not received an update yet from Hermione. "Ron has to head out of town on a case tonight, and Hermione thought it’d be nice if the two of you made it a girls’ night."

"Oh, she did, did she?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sent Ron to do her dirty work and see if I’d be okay giving you up for the night."

She grinned widely, clearly pleased at the change in plans. Harry tried not to feel offended. "Oh, don’t get all pouty on me. It’s been a long time since Hermione and I spent quality time together."

"I know." He didn’t point out that it had also been rather a long time since the two of them had done so. "And I’m sure you’ll have a great time."

"Yeah, it’ll be nice. But for now, I need to wash away the day and let the water soothe my muscles."

"And I’ll make the tea."

After her shower, Ginny fell asleep and Harry didn’t have the heart to wake her until shortly before she had to leave for Hermione’s. "Still want that cuppa before you go?"

"That’d be brilliant." She stretched and yawned before dragging herself out of the bed. "Thanks for letting me nap. I didn’t know how knackered I was until my head hit the pillow."

"No problem. Come fill me in on your day over some Earl Grey before you desert me again."

She smacked him playfully and they made their way to the kitchen. She filled him in on the latest gossip surrounding her teammates and complained about their relentless coach and before long, it was time for her to leave. "What are your plans for tonight?" she asked.

"I’ll probably catch up on some work."

Her smile faltered. "Of course you will." It was always a sore spot between them, how much time he dedicated to his work. But she apparently wasn’t going to press the issue. "Don’t wait up," she said.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Have fun and say hi to ‘Mione for me."

"Will do." And she was gone.

And once more, Harry was left alone with his thoughts. And once more, they returned to Draco. He wondered how things had gone with Lucius. What possible excuse he might have come up with. No doubt he’d say that he’d done it to protect Draco.

A short while later, the coin in Harry’s pocket burned. He removed it and saw _Home_ on it. Taking that as an invitation, he Apparated once more to Draco’s door and knocked.

As he followed Draco into the living room, the scent of firewhiskey wafted back to him and he saw that the bottle had considerably less in it than earlier. Though he wasn’t visibly inebriated, Harry suspected that Draco’d had a couple already.

"Alright, then. What can you tell me about Rowle and what are we going to do about it?"

Harry didn’t know what to make of Draco’s composed demeanour. It was rather unnerving, considering when he’d last seen him. "You seem calm."

He sighed. "Yes, I am. It’s called compartmentalising. We Slytherins are rather adept at it. First I was angry. Then I vented that anger. Now I’ve put it aside so that I may focus on something else."

"But ... are you okay?" Harry couldn’t help asking.

"Of course I’m not okay," he snapped. "But I’ll cope. As you well know, I’ve coped with worse." As Harry made to speak, Draco sighed. "And I don’t want to talk about it."

"Okay, then." Harry pulled out the file again and put it on the table. "The trace led to a neighbourhood in Romford. I don’t have any record of a Rowle owning property there, at least not in the wizarding pockets of the area. Do you know of anyone living there? Any Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathisers?"

Draco considered the question for a few moments. "Not that I know of, but I may have heard a street name or a landmark mentioned without knowing where it was. Let me think about it for a while."

Harry handed him a bundle of paper. "Notable landmarks and a list of street names in Romford." At Draco’s surprised look, he grinned. "Not my favourite part of the job, but I really do research when I need to."

Draco’s lips twitched but he suppressed a full-on smile. "Point taken. Is there anything else?"

"Not right now. Unless you want to – and don’t bite my head off for suggesting this; I’m just doing my job – do you want to pursue something against your father?"

"No, of course not."

"So he’ll get away with this, like he gets away with everything?" He couldn’t help the disdain seeping into his voice.

Draco shrugged. "I can’t be the one to bring him down. Not that something like this – compared with everything else he’s done – would go far in accomplishing that. But still. I do have a sense of family loyalty, even if that family includes Lucius."

"I get it." He didn’t like it, but he understood. Lucius would always be Draco’s father. "But I had to ask."

Draco nodded. "If it’s any consolation, my mother is pissed."

Harry smiled widely. "Yeah," he said, "it is, actually." At Draco’s raised brow, he added, "Don’t fuck with a woman’s child. Even if you’re that child’s father." He chuckled. "I’d be willing to bet his life won’t be quite so cosy for a while."

Draco smirked. "Agreed."

Harry watched a scowl form slowly on Draco’s face – the one that meant he was troubled by something and struggling to put it into words. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Why did you tell me?" Draco asked. "I mean, I know you’re an Auror and all that, but ... well, you have been known to bend the rules from time to time, if memory serves. Surely you could have kept that morsel to yourself."

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t want to tell you, but ..." Harry shrugged. "I’d want to know if it were me."

"Would you really? I mean, if your father ..." He didn’t finish his thought.

"For what it’s worth, I’m sorry your dad’s a dick. I get no pleasure out of telling you this."

"Even if you probably should."

Harry ignored that. "I might not _want_ to know, because it never feels good to find out your parents aren’t the people you always imagined them to be."

"Says Saint Potter with the mother who died for him."

"And your mother risked her life to get to you, too." Harry let go the Saint Potter comment. "I always imagined my dad as this great guy, but he was a bit of a jerk back in school. More than a bit. At least where Snape was concerned." He remembered how James had preened for the girls. "Bit full of himself, too."

Draco snorted. "Like Snape always said you were?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly like Snape said I was. He could never see me, he only saw a younger version of him."

"But how do you know your dad was really like that? Surely you didn’t take Snape’s word for it."

"No, I saw it in his memory when he was teaching me Occlumancy."

"When he what?"

"I’ll tell you all about it another time," he said automatically, forgetting that they weren’t friends and that after this case they might never speak again. "Anyway, then I asked Remus and Sirius and they confirmed it." At his confused look, Harry added, "Lupin and my godfather and my dad were friends in school. They knew him better than anyone."

"So your dad was a bit of a tit. Need I remind you that mine was a Death Eater?"

Harry sighed. "It’s not a competition." And he certainly wasn’t comparing James to Lucius. "I’m just saying that I understand wishing some things about your dad weren’t true. That’s all."

"But this is a whole new level of fucked up."

 _No shit, it was._ Harry couldn’t imagine James – or any father, really – doing what Lucius did. "I can’t deny that. But how can anything change if you don’t even know what he’s done? You can’t call him on his behaviour or protect yourself from it if you don’t know about it."

"I could’ve lived my whole life without ever knowing this about him." He took the last sip of his drink and then got up to pour himself some more. He raised his now half-full glass in a mock toast. "Blissful ignorance."

"I don’t know how _blissful_ ignorance is." Harry shrugged. "I think it’s always better to know the truth, don’t you?"

Draco swirled the liquid in his glass and stared at it. "Even if the truth hurts?"

" _Especially_ if it hurts." Harry thought about that day five years ago. Fuck, that had hurt. But how much worse would it have been if Draco hadn’t said anything? If Harry had gone on, building up hope that they might’ve been able to make a life together? Because, as hard as it was to admit it, and as short a time as they’d been together, that’s exactly what he’d been thinking at the time. However foolish that was now in hindsight. How would it have felt if he’d let himself get even closer to Draco, only to have him come home one day and announce his engagement to some pureblood witch? Working with him now was hard enough; he couldn’t imagine if his heart had been totally ripped to shreds. "Because the longer you live the lie, the more it’ll hurt when you find out the truth."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, I really do." He looked at the pain on Draco’s face and wanted to reach out to him. To comfort him. To tell him everything would be okay. But that wasn’t his place. He couldn’t promise something like that. Because he wouldn’t be around to pick up the pieces.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry picked up a pizza on his way back home and was making his way through it, Rowle’s file spread in front of him. He took a sip of his beer, trying to work out the best way to narrow down the Death Eater’s location. It was highly doubtful he’d reside in a mainly Muggle neighbourhood, so that narrowed things down further to a known stretch of wizarding properties near Raphael Park.

He finished his first beer and was about to get another when he felt the coin in his pocket burn. He pulled it out, but there was no message. But still it burned. He’d set the coin to alert him with either a message or continued contact, just in case Draco wasn’t able to send a message. Adrenaline shot through his veins as he imagined numerous reasons why Draco might be unable to send a message, each one worse than the last. He pulled out his wand and Apparated directly into Draco’s flat.

At once, he located Draco and cast a Protego on him, then marched through the flat, wand ready to confront any intruder. It took him mere moments to realise that no threat loomed. He returned to the living room to find a bewildered Draco gawping at him. "What the hell?" he asked. "Nothing like giving a guy a warning."

His words slurred, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. Harry lifted the protective charm. "The coin burned but there was no message." At Draco’s continued scowl, he said, "I thought something might have happened to you. I just –" It was only then that he took in the scene: Draco holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand, the coin clenched between thumb and finger in the other, the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the table, and beside it sat the dragon. The dragon Harry’d bought in Wales so long ago.

Harry stared at the figure and found himself unable to hold back the question he’d been wanting to ask since he’d first seen it. "Why did you keep it?"

Bleary-eyed, Draco laughed and took a swig of his firewhiskey. "Why haven’t you married the she-weasel?" he countered.

A surge of anger swelled inside Harry. "Not really any of your business, is it?"

Draco turned red, glassy eyes on Harry and his smirk slid off his face, replaced with pain. "No, I don’t suppose it is." He finished the drink with a large swig and stared into the empty glass. "I really fucked that up, didn’t I?"

Just as Draco reached again for the bottle, Harry sent it and the now empty glass to the sideboard with a wave. "I think maybe that’s enough for tonight," he said.

Draco didn’t resist, dropping his hands to his legs, rubbing his palms along his trousers. Harry tried not to follow their path along those familiar thighs. "You know, I told myself I wouldn’t miss you," Draco said to the floor. "But I remember ..." He ran his hands over his face, perhaps in an attempt to scrub away the memories. "I remember everything. The way you taste, the feel of your hair through my fingers, how it felt to wake up beside you. I remember all of it."

Harry’s heart began to race, threatening to pound its way out of his chest. Why was Draco telling him this now? He was drunk, obviously, and he’d had one hell of a day. Then it hit Harry. Draco had said he’d marry and have children. Had that just been to please his father? And now that Lucius had betrayed him in such a horribly intrusive way, was this the final straw? Or was he simply angry at Lucius and Harry would be a good way to lash out at his father? Whatever the reason, Draco was drunk and not thinking clearly.

"Malfoy, I don’t think you want –"

Draco let out a choking sound. "Do you know how much it kills me, every time you call me that? It’s like nothing’s changed since school. Like none of it ever happened. Like it all meant nothing."

That’s exactly how Harry had felt when Draco had cast him aside. Like it had all meant nothing. But he couldn’t spit out the words. Didn’t want to show how much it hurt him, even now. "Maybe you should have a cup of tea." Harry escaped into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and certainly not when Draco was drunk.

He pulled down the teapot and a couple of mugs, then, thinking Draco could use something to soak up some of the alcohol, scrambled for a box of biscuits and put some on a plate. He poured the water into the kettle, then returned to the living room while the tea steeped. 

Harry sat down beside Draco on the sofa, put the plate of biscuits on the table and slid it towards Draco. He ignored it. "You know what? I don’t even have a picture of the two of us." Draco said. Harry did know. They’d never taken the time, hadn’t even thought about it. Having a photograph taken didn’t exactly go along with hiding a relationship, after all. Draco reached for the dragon, holding it gently in one hand and running his finger along its back. "That day was the one time it felt like we were a real couple and this is the only thing I have to remind me of us. As if I’d ever let go of that."

That knocked the wind out of Harry as surely as if he’d been punched in the gut and he didn’t know what to say. He’d never imagined – not after what had happened – that Draco would have felt the same way as he had about that day. And the stupid little dragon. Draco looked into his eyes, then reached for Harry’s face with his free hand. He reconsidered at the last minute, dropping it and his eyes back to the dragon. In a choked voice, he said, "This is all I have left."

Harry stood up abruptly. "I’ll get the tea." And like a coward, he fled the room. His hands shook as he poured the tea and added a splash of milk to both, and a heaping spoon of sugar to Draco’s, just the way he liked it. Harry hated himself a little for remembering.

He took a few long breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and get a grip. He calmed himself enough to carry the mugs without his hands shaking too much. He put the mugs onto the table, this time taking a seat in the chair opposite Draco.

They sat in silence for a time. Harry didn’t know what to say. Draco was drunk and hurt and vulnerable, and Harry was sure he never would have said any of this sober. But, as much as Harry would have loved to get to the bottom of Draco’s motivation, he would not take advantage of his current state in order to get information from him. Besides, Harry reminded himself, who knew if this was how Draco really felt? And was it Harry he missed or just the idea of it all? Of being free of Lucius’ pureblood grip on him?

Draco sipped his tea and gave Harry a half sad, half hopeful look that said, _you remembered._ Once again, he spoke to the floor. "I can’t believe I let you walk away."

_Let him?_ What the— "You didn’t let me walk away, Draco." Harry’s stomach clenched as he relived that day, that conversation, again. Through clenched teeth, he reminded his ex, "I wasn’t going anywhere. You _pushed_ me away."

"But you let me!"

Harry gritted his teeth. He would not take the blame for this. "You’re the one that said it meant nothing, not me," he began. He took several deep breaths, reeling in his anger, his pain. "You know what? Never mind." He really, really didn’t want to have this conversation, not now. He had a job to do. They could take a trip down memory lane and try to rewrite history once this case was closed. But until then ... "It’s time for me to go. Sorry I barged in unannounced." But I was worried about you. "There’s a pot of tea in the kitchen. I recommend you drink it all, have something to eat, maybe take a sobriety potion and go to bed. We can talk tomorrow. When you’re sober."

Draco continued to stare down at the floor. Harry knew he was hurting, but he wasn’t the only one. And right now, Harry didn’t think he could handle any more of this. "I’ll be at the hotel most of the day. Come by whenever."

"I don’t blame you for hating me," Draco said without looking up.

Harry took out his wand. "That’s just it, though ... I could never hate you." And he Apparated home.

His first instinct, upon arriving home, was to reach for the firewhiskey. He opted instead for another beer – no use both of them being hungover the next day. Besides, Ginny would be home in a few hours and he didn’t fancy explaining to her why he’d drowned himself in alcohol while she was out.

He spent an hour or so fruitlessly trying to rid his mind of the scene he’d left at Draco’s, but to no avail. All he’d managed to do was stare unseeingly at the pages of Rowle’s file while the conversation played on constant repeat in his head.

By the time Ginny got home, he’d finished the rest of the pizza, had switched from beer to tea, had put away his work, and was watching some mindless show on the telly.

Ginny took in the scene and smiled. "Impressive. I expected you to be buried in your work."

Harry shrugged. "Wanted to clear my head before going to sleep. How was your girls’ night?"

She put down her bag and sat across from him. "It was good. We had a good talk."

_Uh oh._ That sounded more like, _we should talk._ Sure enough ...

"Harry, why haven’t you asked me to marry you?"

Thankfully, he hadn’t been sipping his tea or he’d have choked on it. Instead, he frowned. "What?" He thought that was pretty rich, considering what their relationship had become. They’d been drifting apart rather than closer together, and the last thing he’d been thinking about was marriage. Apparently he’d been alone in that assessment.

Ginny straightened her back and turned a determined look towards him. "We’ve been living together for some time now. Isn’t marriage the next logical step?"

Well, yes, it would have been. In fact, that’s what Harry’d thought at the time she’d moved in. That this was a step towards marriage. But since then, they’d settled into what felt more like a friendship than anything else. And he wasn’t so sure where things were going anymore. "I –" he began, but wasn’t sure what to say next. What did he want? His recently rekindled feelings for Draco aside, what did he want from her? What had he wanted before this case had taken over his life? "Is that what you want?"

Her eyes narrowed and he wouldn’t have been surprised if a bat bogey hex were thrown at him. "I’m not asking what I want, Harry. I’m asking what _you_ want. What you expect to come out of this. I feel like we’ve been drifting apart for so long now, like we’ve been living together, but apart, you know?" He nodded. So he hadn’t been alone in thinking that after all. "I’d thought we’d get closer, only now ..."

The words spilled out before he could think them through. "So you think getting married will fix that?"

He knew it’d been the wrong thing to say – however true the statement was – as soon as the words had left his mouth. "No, Harry," she said, a waspishness in her voice he hadn’t heard in some time. Like all the emotion in their relationship, not even the anger held much spark anymore. It was strangely comforting to know there was still some sign of life there, however incensed Ginny was. "I just wanted to know if you felt the same way I do. If ... well, I don’t know what I meant. Maybe we should talk later. I have practice early in the morning and strategising for the weekend game in the afternoon, but I’ll be home for dinner. Maybe we can talk then."

He nodded. "Sure." Why the hell not? He might as well deal with every relationship he’d ever had, all at once. Maybe he should call up Cho and have her over for tea tomorrow to discuss what went wrong between them too. Tossing aside that uncharitable thought – Gin had no idea about Draco, past or present, after all – he said, "I can grab some take-away and we can ... talk." He tried not to sound like he wanted to throw up; based on Ginny’s expression, he wasn’t so sure he’d succeeded.

"Right." She stood up. "Well, goodnight, then." And she went to bed. She didn’t even bother with a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t follow. He didn’t think he would sleep much anyway, so why bother? No point keeping her awake all night too.

When his alarm went in the morning, Harry was still in the previous day’s clothes, uncomfortably positioned on the sofa, and Ginny had already left for the day. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, wondering what the day ahead would hold for him. He wasn’t sure his emotions could go through the wringer much more before he cracked. Then again, putting things into perspective, he’d survived a war with a madman after him. Surely he could handle whatever was in store. How much worse could it get?

Much worse, it turned out.

He’d dragged himself into the shower and choked down some toast and coffee before checking in at the office. With Ron’s team away in Yorkshire, Harry and the others remaining had picked up a few nuisance cases that had come in overnight. While they didn’t take too long to assess and either manage or assign out, it did leave Harry behind on his plans to work on Draco’s case. By the time he got to the hotel, it was already two o’clock in the afternoon.

Shortly after he arrived, and before he’d had much of a chance to dive into the case, Draco showed up, a look of determination etched on his face. "Oh, you’re here?" he said. "I came by earlier but you weren’t. I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

"No. I know I said I’d be here all day, but one of the teams is out of town and the rest of us got saddled with extra cases this morning. By the time I even realised what time it was, I didn’t think to let you know. Sorry about that."

Draco brushed his comments away with a wave. "Never mind. You don’t report to me. It’s only ... well, I was in pretty bad shape last night."

"Yeah, I know. That’s why I left when I did. Before ..."

Draco raised his brows. "Before I could say anything stupid?" he asked. Harry cringed. "You were a bit late for that."

Harry knew that was true, but he really hadn’t wanted to leave him alone in that state. But if it had been Harry rambling on like that, he’d have been mortified the next day. "Yeah. Sorry. I just –"

"Did you mean what you said?" Draco asked, cutting him off. Harry had absolutely no idea what Draco was talking about. They’d said so many things the day before, he couldn’t keep it all straight in his mind. "About always wanting to know the truth?" Oh, that. Harry nodded. "No matter how much it might hurt?"

Harry nodded again. "It’s always better to know the truth."

"Right, then." Draco walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the Pensieve. He placed it on the table and drew out his wand. Placing it to his temple, he pulled out a long, silvery strand and placed it in the rune-covered basin. He looked at Harry and motioned towards the swirling mass. "There you have it. The truth. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Harry looked from Draco to the Pensieve and back again. "Care to explain?"

"Not really," he said. "It’s self-explanatory."

Harry hesitated. "What’s this all about?"

"I told you. The truth. You want to know the truth so badly, there it is."

Harry scowled at the Pensieve. "Are you going to join me?"

Draco laughed but without humour. "Fuck, no. I relive that memory often enough as it is."

Harry frowned. "Why don’t you just tell me?"

Draco put his hands on the table and leaned into Harry’s space. "As I’ve said, I don’t want to relive it, thanks. Besides, I highly doubt you’d believe me if I did." He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "So ... go on, then. See how much you like the truth."

Harry, never one to resist a challenge, as Draco well knew, nodded and without thinking twice, dove into Draco’s memory.

Draco stood, arms crossed much the same way as he’d just been doing, only this time defiantly staring down Ginny and Ron. "Admit it, Malfoy, you don’t give a shit," Ron said. "You’re just messing with him and we all know it."

"Well, everyone but Harry," Ginny said. "I don’t know what kind of hold you have on him, but it ends now."

Draco sneered at the two of them. "Why, because the two of you say so? Not bloody likely."

"No, because it’s what’s best for Harry," Ginny said.

Draco dropped his arms and marched towards her. Ron stepped closer to form a barrier between the two. "Relax, Weasel. I’m not going to touch her." He looked at each of them in turn, disgust pouring off him in waves. "Don’t you think that maybe _Harry_ should decide what’s best for him? Hasn’t he had enough of other people deciding what he should and shouldn’t do?"

"Of course," Ron said.

"And yet here you are."

"Because we _all_ know that you’re no good for him," Ron spat.

Draco turned his attention to Ginny and narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose _you_ are just what he needs." Contempt and jealousy resonated from him and filled the room.

"That’s not the point," she said.

"Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the point."

"No, Malfoy," Ron interjected. "The point is Harry deserves better than the likes of you. Pretty much anyone else."

Draco’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You know nothing about me."

Ron laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. Harry had never heard him like that before. "I think I know you and your family better than most. Death. Eater. Scum. The lot of you. Even after we saved you in the Room of Requirement when it was going down in flames – thanks to your buddy, Crabbe – you went back to the other side. Just like your dear old daddy, pretending to be all sorry, and an upstanding person, only to jump at the chance to cow-tow to the latest maniac that tries to seize power. Too pathetic to take a stand yourself, you just ride on other people’s coattails. And now here you are. Riding on Harry’s. And he doesn’t have a clue, does he?"

Draco took deep, calming breaths. Harry knew this uncanny ability Draco had to control his emotions was due in large part to having Death Eaters surrounding him day and night. He’d often joked about there being at least one good thing to come of that time. Harry didn’t think he’d have been so calm. "Look, Weaselbee, She-Weasel, as difficult as this may be for you to believe, I am not manipulating Harry. You might want to give him credit for being able to see through bullshit when he sees it. Unlike you, _he_ knows me. And do you know why he knows me? Because I let him in. And you know what else? You don’t hold a monopoly on caring about him. I just happen to have faith in him too. I trust that he can make his own decisions. I don’t try to control his life, something far too many people have done already."

"Sure you don’t," Ginny said.

"Excuse me, but I’m quite sure it’s the two of you here right now, trying to do just that."

"We aren’t trying to control Harry," she responded. Draco snorted. "We’re just trying to get you to see reason."

"Oh, really. How do you work that one out?"

Ginny made to say something else, but Ron cut her off. "You say you care about him?" Draco nodded. "And you think you know him." Another nod. "Then you should know how much he hates attention. Hates people gawping at him, fawning over him, pretending they know him. Hates the media frenzy that’s surrounded him practically his whole life."

"No thanks to you," Ginny added.

Ron coughed and continued. "Well, the media would have a field day with this morsel, don’t you think? Death Eater Draco Malfoy, son of Voldemort’s right hand man, nephew of crazed lunatic torturer and murderess, with our saviour, Harry Potter. What does this mean? Has he lost his mind? Is this now the end of Potter? He can’t be stable. Needs to be locked up. Not just for his own good, but for the good of everyone. Someone as powerful as the wizard who conquered the greatest enemy of wizardkind is now under the influence – perhaps even the control – of that same enemy’s follower? He must be stopped."

Colour drained from Draco’s face as Ron listed potential headlines, rumours that might be.

"Of course, that’s the worst case. But you’ve seen how people react when they’re scared. And believe me, they’re scared as hell right now." That had been true at the end of the war, but Harry thought it was a bit much to imagine them locking him away just for dating Draco. "And even if it didn’t get that bad, do you really think anyone would trust him in a position of authority? Hell, he’d be lucky to even become an Auror, never mind work his way up the ranks. And he’d make a great leader; look at what he’s done already. He deserves everything life has to offer. If you care about him, as you claim, how can you deny him that? Or are you going to prove me right and show yourself to be the selfish bastard we all know you to be?"

Draco tried to school his features, but Harry saw how ill he looked and was sure the others did too.

"Glad to see you’re starting to understand," Ginny snapped, the venom in her voice like a smack to Harry’s face. "See? It’s got nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with Harry. And what his life is likely to become, should the two of you carry on with this farce of a relationship." 

Harry wasn’t so sure it had nothing to do with Ginny, but by the look on Draco’s face, they’d got to him. His hands were shaking and he looked ready to throw up. Harry hadn’t seen him look that bad since the war. "Get out," he told them.

"But --"

"Get out! Leave, just ... go."

The smirk on Ginny’s face made Harry sick. She’d won and she knew it. They’d won. Draco had lost. And so had Harry. Oh, God, how much they’d lost. As he was drawn back into Draco’s flat, Harry knew what had come next. The end of his life with Draco, a life barely started, but one based on truth, forgiveness and compassion, and the return to his old life with Ginny, only now it was a tainted life based on lies, deception and pain. Neither she nor Ron had ever told him that they’d known. He’d been manipulated again. And he’d allowed it to happen. Well, no more. He and Ginny would have their talk tonight, but it would go far differently than she’d planned, that was for damn sure.

When he looked at Draco, who stood watching him, Harry had expected a look of triumph, vindication perhaps. But all he saw was a broken man. "I ... I have to go." And he left.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry arrived at home and collapsed onto the sofa, elbows resting on his legs and head in his hands. His entire body shook as he forced himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. His stomach roiled but he swallowed down the urge to vomit. Betrayal clawed at him from his core. 

He laughed harshly. Well, weren’t they a pair? He’d felt sorry for Draco after Lucius had betrayed him, had tried to control him. Lucius at least had never pretended to be anything but a bastard. 

But Ron. And Ginny. They’d always – always – professed to be in Harry’s corner. They’d supposedly been disgusted with how others had deceived Harry, had tried to manipulate and control his life according to what they thought was best. The knife in his back twisted a little more. Dumbledore’s betrayal had hurt – as Snape had said, he’d spent Harry’s life preparing him for slaughter – but in the end, Harry had come to realise that not all was as it had seemed. Dumbledore hadn’t been preparing him for death so much as taking a calculated risk, hoping for, and indeed banking on, Harry’s survival. A small distinction for some, but since it had paid off, Harry had accepted it.

Ron had been disgusted by the Dursleys’ lies and appalled that they’d kept the truth from Harry his whole life. He’d also consistently and repeatedly said how much he’d wished he could have confronted Dumbledore and given him a piece of his mind. He could have – should have – done things another way. Should have trusted Harry with the knowledge of what needed to be done. Should have let Harry make that choice at the outset, not in the heat of the moment, in the middle of a war, while watching his friends dying around him. Ron had been furious, and although Harry understood why Dumbledore had done what he had, and had defended him to a point, Harry had also welcomed Ron’s indignation on his part. He’d felt that someone really cared about him unconditionally. Like a brother. 

But now? God, he felt ill. Trying for some perspective, he reasoned that Ron hadn’t been throwing Harry’s life away, hadn’t manipulated him into a course of action to follow a predetermined path ... or had he? Had it been as he’d told Draco, that it was for Harry’s own good? Or had he manoeuvred things so that Harry and Ginny would end up together? Had he done it for Harry, for Ginny or for himself? Did it even matter?

And Ginny. Fucking hell, he felt used. Not once in the last five years had she even hinted that she knew he’d been involved with Draco. He thought back, trying to remember the precise time they’d started seeing each other again. He couldn’t pinpoint it. Things were all tied up in family. The Weasleys were his family. He’d been there so often, the lines had blurred. When had they gone from mutual grief and comfort over the death of Fred and so many others to something more? Harry now began to question every conversation they’d had during that time, to see if things had developed naturally or if every word, every touch, every action had been choreographed to lead to their eventual reconciliation as a couple.

Ginny had always been a strong, resourceful girl and had grown into a headstrong, determined woman. She’d learned at a young age, as the baby and only girl in the family, to work people and situations to her advantage. Is that what she’d done with Harry? Or had she simply been looking out for him? And again, did it matter?

He didn’t question their love for him. He didn’t – he wouldn’t – minimise his own feelings for them either. But this calculated, unrepentant attack on Draco was not something he could stand for. And their utter disregard for Harry’s own feelings rankled more than he would have thought possible. This wasn’t some small decision they’d taken away from him. This had been his life. He’d shut down completely and poured himself relentlessly into his work after Draco had ended it. Something that, funny enough, Ginny resented. But he’d needed to do it. He’d needed to prove himself worthy of at least some of the praise people had bestowed on him. Prove to himself he wasn’t so horrible a judge of character, despite having been duped by someone he should have been wary of. He’d turned inward and shut off much of the world since then.

And – he choked out a laugh at the irony of this – he’d resisted any sort of real commitment to Ginny, not able to trust himself to know if she, or anyone else for that matter, could ever really love him. Love him for him and not for his name or what he represented.

How had he not seen? How had he not known? He felt like an idiot.

Maybe he hadn’t worked things out, but perhaps a part of him had known something was off. Perhaps he hadn’t been completely closed off to love, but rather had been wary of what his relationship with Ginny meant. He’d never been all-in and maybe that’s why things had gone the way they had. Maybe that’s why they’d become little more than friends. 

And until he’d seen Draco again, he’d been carrying on with his life, oblivious to what he was missing. He saw friends occasionally and – as Kingsley had pointed out numerous times – devoted nearly all of his waking hours to his job. He hadn’t given himself the time or space to figure out that he wasn’t happy at all. That he was coasting through life rather than living it.

His thoughts returned to the confrontation they’d had with Draco. How had they found out? He’d told no one. He wondered if Draco thought he had. If that had weighed in on his decision to cut things off with Harry.

He tried to be angry with Draco, too. After all, he hadn’t told Harry anything either. But, Harry realised, why would he have? He’d spent his life surrounded by people who manipulated each other, spoke in code, and rarely gave a straight answer. It wasn’t in his nature to be open and honest about his feelings, not if it left him vulnerable. It just wasn’t what a Slytherin would do. And, after years of outright animosity towards each other, he and Harry had only been together for a few months when they’d confronted him. What was a few months against a lifetime of self-preservation? 

He couldn’t excuse Draco’s actions outright, but he couldn’t condemn him for them either. And he had shown Harry the truth in the end. A truth that seemingly pained him as much as it did Harry. They’d have to talk. _Really_ talk. Even if it changed nothing, they deserved to have the closure they hadn’t had five years ago.

But that would come later. Right now Harry needed to figure out what to do about Ginny and Ron.

By the time Ginny returned home, Harry had made up his mind. He’d gone out to pick up dinner from a Muggle restaurant close enough to home for him to walk off some of his anger, and grabbed a bottle of wine while he was at it. Nothing like comfort food to ease the way into an uneasy conversation.

When Ginny walked into the kitchen, she breathed in contentedly. "Pad Thai?"

He nodded. "Bottle of wine chilling, too. Why don’t you wash up, we can eat, and then we’ll talk, yeah?"

She smiled and nodded. "Be back down in twenty."

"I’ll keep it warm."

She kissed him on the cheek and he only just managed not to recoil. 

While she was upstairs, he dished out the food and poured two glasses of wine, casting a stasis charm to keep the food warm and wine cold. He sipped his wine slowly while he waited, hoping to calm his nerves while still maintaining his focus. He had no illusions about how this night would end.

She returned, freshly washed, her long hair damp and wavy, her face open and relaxed. She looked so young and pretty that he found himself transported back to happier times, those fleeting, carefree days back in school when they’d fallen for each other. He found himself again wondering how they’d got to this place. She really was so very beautiful, inside and out, that he spared a moment to feel badly for what he was about to do, but forced himself to focus. He’d made his decision and he would not back down.

"Cup of tea?" he asked after they’d finished. She had practice again in the morning and he had no desire to dull his senses, so they’d only had one glass of wine each.

"Sure," she said, once more smiling up at him. Again he felt a pang of guilt that he tamped down.

He brought their mugs of tea into the front room and sat on a chair facing her. "So," he said, "you wanted to talk?"

She put down her cup and nodded. "I did."

"So ... talk."

She frowned a little before plunging ahead. "I was talking to Hermione last night."

"I gathered."

"And she said that I should tell you how I’m feeling."

"Smart woman."

Encouraged, she smiled and leaned forward. "I ... I thought we’d be married, or at least engaged, by now."

"So you said last night."

Her face fell slightly. "Isn’t that what you want?"

He took a sip of his tea, then put it down and sat back. "I did some soul searching today," he said. "Thought about how, exactly, we got to this place."

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a curious look. "And?"

He’d thought about it for a long time and still wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. "Well, after the war, we’d gone our separate ways. After everything, I guess I’d thought we’d drifted apart for good. We were still family, but not ... not like we’d been."

She frowned. "But we got that back."

They hadn’t, really. "How did that happen, exactly?" he asked. "Don’t get me wrong; I just couldn’t really pinpoint that moment, you know, when everything fell into place."

She fidgeted in her seat, clearly not expecting the conversation to have gone in this direction. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I remember clearly how we got together the first time. I’d been watching you all year, something had clicked in my brain early on and I’d realised you were more to me than my best friend’s sister."

"Thanks?"

He laughed. "No, really. You know that. I’d started looking at you differently, started appreciating you for who you were as a person, as a girl, and then I kissed you and the rest was history."

She smiled. "In front of the whole common room."

He chuckled. "I just couldn’t wait until later." 

Her smile widened. "That was a great year."

"It really was," he agreed. "But then the war came and we split up."

"You mean you dumped me."

"I didn’t want to."

"I know, but you did all the same."

"Yeah. And then after the war ..."

Her brows furrowed and she started to wring her hands. "I thought you’d come back to me."

"I thought so too," he admitted. "But something changed. We changed. I changed."

"You did. But I never gave up," she said, lifting her chin in that stubborn way of hers. "I knew we were meant to be. There was never anyone else for me."

He considered her words and wondered just what lengths she’d go to in order to get what she wanted. "Is that why you did it?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Did what?"

"How did you find out?"

She looked even more perplexed. "Find out what?"

"I know," he said.

Silence permeated the room, resting heavily over them. She didn’t say anything but he watched her process his words, run through all possible options in her mind. He saw the moment when everything clicked. She hesitated for a beat before shakily saying, "You know?"

Done with the pretense, his voice turned cold. "Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve insulted my intelligence enough already, thanks."

"Seriously, Harry, what are you talking about?" Her eyes didn’t meet his as she scrambled to deny the truth.

"Draco."

He watched her giveaways. Her eyes flashed, if only for a moment, but it was enough. She was caught and she knew it. She swallowed several times and darted looks around the room. Looking for an escape, perhaps? Then she drew in a breath and sat upright, draping herself in a mask of arrogance and bravado.

"What difference does it make how I knew?"

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. "Well, you see, Ginny, I was very careful. I mentioned nothing to anyone, never let on. Not once."

"Pfft. That’s because you knew what you were doing wasn’t right. It was disgusting."

Harry clenched his teeth together. _That_ he hadn’t expected from her. "Disgusting, hmm? Is that what you tell your friends, Hannah and Millicent? That they’re disgusting?"

"Of course not!" Her indignation seemed genuine. "I meant only because it was with Malfoy, of all people." She said his name like it was a vile thing, something to be avoided at all costs.

"Oh, so not because he’s a man, but because he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"I see. Just so we’re clear on that." He was relieved. He’d hate to think he’d misjudged her that much. "So, back to the original question: how did you know?"

She hesitated, but Harry didn’t ask again. If there was one thing he’d learned about interrogation techniques, it was to let silence work for you. It’s human nature to want to fill the silence and, more often than not, guilty people gave away a lot when they filled silences.

Ginny did not disappoint. "Fine! I followed you! Satisfied?"

"Not even close," he said. "Why did you follow me? What had you hoped to find?"

"I was worried about you."

Harry snorted. "Right."

"I was. You were becoming more distant."

"So it was about you, not me. You needed to know why I wasn’t more ... I dunno ... affectionate towards you?"

She shrugged. "How did you find out?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, no, you don’t get to ask the questions, Ginny. Let’s just say I know what you did and I want answers."

"What do you want me to say, that I’m sorry? That I shouldn’t have done it? Well I won’t. I did what was right. You deserve far better than the likes of Draco Malfoy."

"You mean I deserve _you_."

"Well, I like to think I’m a damn sight better than a Death Eater, yeah."

"Really?" he asked, knowing it was cruel but not giving a damn right now. "You know all about who he was – who he is – and you know that you are better than that?"

"Yes!"

"Well, here’s what I know, Gin." He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to her. "Draco isn’t the one who went behind my back to manipulate a situation that affected _my_ life."

"He was a Death Eater, Harry!"

"Draco was a kid that looked up to his dad. Unfortunately, his dad is Lucius Malfoy. He got thrown in prison and Draco was left to pick up the pieces. Voldemort took advantage of a lost kid who desperately wanted to prove himself to his dad, return their name to good standing, and get a little glory along the way."

"He was a Death Eater!" she repeated.

"True. But in name only. His heart wasn’t in it. At first, yes, with glory calling and his family torn apart. But he had no idea what he’d signed up for. And as time progressed, he couldn’t stomach the nastiness of it all."

"He almost killed Ron. Your best friend. And don’t forget Katie."

"He’d never intended to hurt either of them, but I won’t forget, believe me. And neither will he."

"Yeah, right. Stop making excuses for him."

"I’m not excusing what he did. It was wrong. It was stupid. He was desperate, caught between a rock and a hard place. Surrounded by Voldemort and his followers, he felt trapped. He _was_ trapped. He should have asked for help, but never imagined anyone would help him and certainly not his father. Why would anyone want to help Lucius? So he tried to save his family the only way he knew how. When faced with the task he’d been charged with – to kill Dumbledore – he couldn’t. I watched him fall apart when Dumbledore offered him and his family help. He’d made all the wrong choices and he knew it. And he hated himself for it. Still does, I imagine."

"Good. He should. As far as I’m concerned, he can rot in hell."

"I don’t expect you to understand, or to forgive him, or his asshole father."

"I should hope not."

"But you and I fundamentally disagree on what he deserves. Dumbledore – even faced with Draco’s half-arsed attempt at killing him – thought he was worth saving, and so do I. In fact, he’s done a lot to redeem himself, if not his family, including working with the Ministry and testifying against Death Eaters and other sympathisers during the post-war investigations and trials. And he’s led an exemplary life since the war, from what I’ve heard." She snorted. "Look, I don’t expect to change your mind, but he’s not the person you think he is."

"I don’t know what you ever saw in him."

"That’s right, you don’t know. You never did. You never asked. I had no idea anyone even knew about us." He got up from his chair, unable to sit still while this agitated. He walked to the window and stared out at the night sky, dusted with cloud and sprinkled with a few twinkling stars. He wanted to be out there, breathing in the cool, night air. Wanted to be anywhere but in here with Ginny, the walls closing in on him. He turned back to face her, leaning against the window ledge, arms crossed over his chest. "But that’s not really the point now, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine. You took that away from me."

"But you couldn’t see. You weren’t thinking clearly. Someone had to –"

"Someone had to what, Gin? Did you really think me incapable of thinking for myself? That you had to step in and do what was right for me? What I couldn’t manage to do for myself?"

She sniffed and held her nose in the air. "Well, yes, if you must know. You obviously didn’t know what you were doing and someone had to make you see reason."

He pushed off from the window and walked towards her. Looking harshly into her eyes, he said, "But that’s not what you did. You didn’t make me see anything. You went behind my back and manipulated a situation that was none of your business."

"Of course it was my business! You were meant to be with _me_."

And there it was. "So you did what was necessary to make that happen."

"I knew then and I know now that it was the right thing to do."

"But how could you know? You have no idea what he’s like. Or what I’m like when I’m with him. You had no idea what was going on between us, and yet you felt that it was your right to manipulate my life – manipulate me – to serve your own best interest."

"That’s not what happened."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her. She was as stubborn as her brother. And he was done with it. He’d had enough manipulation for a lifetime before she and Ron had confronted Draco and she should have known that. She _had_ known that, but it hadn’t stopped her. The road to hell was, indeed, paved with good intentions.

"What I know is that I trusted you and you betrayed that trust."

"But Harry--"

"I’m going to gather some things and go. I’ll give you a couple of days to clear out your stuff, and I’d like you gone by the time I come back."

"But ... you can’t. We have a life together."

"We _had_ a life together. One based on lies and manipulation."

"No! We love each other." She reached out for him, but he grasped her wrists and gently pushed her away. "You love me. You know you do."

"No, Ginny. Right now I don’t even know you. And frankly, I don’t even want to know you." He released her wrists and turned to go up the stairs. "Two days, Ginny." He threw up a shield so she couldn’t follow him and he went into his room to collect some clothes.

Unsure what she might do while he was out of the house, he cast protective charms on everything of value to him, and he returned to the front room. Ginny stood in the same spot he’d left her, face red – from fury or hurt, he couldn’t tell. Either way, it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the situation. 

"I’ve given years of my life to you," she said. "Years."

Harry’s blood ran cold. "No, Ginny, you’ve _taken_ years of mine." He put down his kit bag and glared at her. "That you can’t see what you’ve done is wrong, in so many ways, tells me all I need to know. I don’t want to see you or talk to you for a long, long time. Perhaps I’ll be able to forgive you, someday, but that day is not today. And it won’t be any time soon."

She looked down at his bag, then up at him, anger radiating from her. It reminded him of the Ginny in Draco’s Pensieve. Good. That would made this easier. "You’re going to _him_ now, aren’t you? That filthy--"

"Stop!" Harry’s voice reverberated through the house with such force she jumped. "I am not going _to_ anyone. I’m going _away_ from you. And you’ve only yourself to blame. No one else." She looked poised to argue, but she remained silent, glaring at him. 

"Not that I need to tell you anything, ever again," he said, "but I’m going to take some time, alone, to think about the shit show that my life has become. I can’t be around anyone right now. Two days, Ginny. And I mean what I say: I don’t want you here when I return. If you are, I can’t promise I’ll be very polite."

Her face hardened. "Is that a threat?"

He took a deep breath and sighed, exhaustion overwhelming him. "Of course not. But right now, I’m not telling you what I feel about all this, about what you and Ron did, and how I feel about you as a person, one who claims to love me. I don’t think you want to hear what I’d have to say. And if you’re here when I return, I may just say it. And then things will truly be irreparable."

"So," she said, her voice wavering and her eyes welling up, "there’s a chance?"

He reached for his bag. "No, Ginny. Without trust, we have nothing. It’s over. But there is a chance we could move on without hating each other. I’d like that. But if you don’t give me the space I need, even that may be out of reach." Before she could respond, he turned on the spot and was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry debated getting a bottle of firewhiskey, but thought better of it. Probably best to keep a clear head. Besides, he needed to get to the bottom of this case. He’d wasted enough time today already, dealing with his mess of a personal life. As he’d done after Draco had left, he’d dive into his work, immersing himself in anything and everything that could get his mind off ... well, everything that wasn’t work.

He tossed his bag beside the closet and went downstairs for a coffee – a large, strong cup of coffee, thanks. When he returned, it was to find Draco sitting at the table. 

He jumped when Harry entered. "I – I didn’t know you’d be here," he said when he saw Harry. "I thought you’d be at home."

Harry shrugged. "I sorta bailed on my work earlier, so I thought it’d be best to get back at it, at least for a while." He didn’t want to talk about Ginny right now. He didn’t see the point. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m sorry." He was strung tight as a wire. "I can just leave." He stood up to do just that.

Harry stopped him with a shake of the head. "I didn’t mean you had to leave, only that I figured you’d have better things to do."

Draco relaxed a fraction, but remained wound up. "I – look, I know the bugs are gone now, but ..." He rubbed his palms on his legs nervously. "I still feel eyes on me, like someone’s watching every move I make, listening to everything I say. It’s creeping me out, if I’m honest."

Harry nodded. He’d feel the same way. "Do you want some tea? A firewhiskey, maybe, to relax?"

Draco snorted. "I think I’ve had enough firewhiskey for a while, thanks." Then he mumbled, "Especially around you."

Harry didn’t respond to that. "Tea, then? They make a decent cup downstairs. I can get you –"

Draco stood up, cutting Harry off. "It’s okay, I can get myself some." He looked around the room nervously. "Or maybe it’d be best if I just went back home. I’m sure I’ll be fine."

"Draco, it’s okay. I’m just going to be working on your case anyway, so it couldn’t hurt having you around if I have any questions."

"Yeah?" He looked hopeful and Harry couldn’t help the surge of protectiveness he felt for him. Bloody hell, he needed his head examined.

"I doubt it’ll help you relax, but as long as you’re okay talking about it, I could use the help."

Draco gave a sad half-smile. "Maybe not, but if it helps to end this nightmare sooner, I’m all for it." He opened the door to go downstairs. "Be right back."

It was only after he’d been gone a few moments that Harry realised Draco wasn’t a registered guest of the hotel and might raise some eyebrows with his appearance, particularly entering the pub from the hotel. Now tense, but convinced he’d draw even more attention by going after Draco, he pulled out the coin. Hoping Draco still had his coin, Harry said, "Enter pub from outside, not hotel lobby."

He got no answer. When Draco returned, he Apparated in. He rolled his eyes at Harry. "I’ve got someone after me, Potter. Did you really imagine me daft enough to enter from the lobby?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t think about it until you were gone, so it wasn’t a stretch that you might not have thought about it either."

He shrugged and only then did Harry realise he wasn’t carrying a tea. "Okay, truth: I realised the same thing halfway down the stairs, so I popped back to my flat and picked this up." He reached inside one pocket and withdrew a variety of gourmet teas, placing them on the side table, then from his other pocket he withdrew and enlarged a tea pot and two mugs. "I figured we’re here often enough that we might as well have some good tea."

Harry laughed. "Great idea, thanks. I think I’ve been drinking too much coffee anyway."

While Draco made a pot of his fancy tea, Harry drank his coffee and made a list of the questions he thought Draco might be able to answer, to help him fill in the gaps.

It turned out he was helpful, particularly connecting Death Eaters to each other. Unfortunately, besides Antonin Dolohov, who was safely tucked away in Azkaban, Rowle hadn’t ever connected with other Voldemort followers.

"I think he just went along with the group as an outlet for his sociopathic and sadistic tendencies. Hiding in plain view, as it were."

Harry shuddered. He’d come across a fair few sick characters in his time, but thankfully most weren’t outright sociopaths. "So you don’t think he bought into the ideology?"

Draco, brows furrowed, pondered the question for some time before saying, "I don’t really know. He was definitely brought up with the whole pureblood is best mentality, and with the desire to rule over Muggles, but I don’t think it went any deeper than being able to wield power over those less powerful or strong. I think if a Muggle offered him more freedom to act out his sick fantasies, he’d just as soon pair up with that person as a wizard."

This struck Harry as odd. His face must have shown his doubt, because Draco added, "Oh, he wouldn’t like it. And he’d turn on the Muggle in a heartbeat. But he’d get what he could out of the arrangement for himself first."

"But he stuck with the Death Eaters, even after Voldemort punished him."

Draco nodded. "He did. I think Voldemort might have been the only person who ever scared him." He laughed. "And I bet he’d have killed him too, if the chance arose."

Harry let all that settle, careful not to show how disturbing this was. Rowle was not just someone looking to get revenge for a slight. If he cared for no one but himself, he’d have viewed Draco – and Lucius, for that matter – not as an enemy, but as an obstacle. An obstacle to be eliminated. There would be no negotiating with him. No hesitation on his part to take out anyone and everyone that prevented him accomplishing his goal. And Harry was pretty sure that goal was to eliminate Draco, Lucius and possibly Narcissa. He’d probably get some satisfaction out of getting Harry out of the way too, since he’d been instrumental in causing Rowle’s initial punishment.

Draco got up to get another cup of tea. He took a few steps before stopping. "What’s this?" He kicked Harry’s bag that sat where he’d tossed it when he’d first come in.

Shit. He’d meant to tuck that away in the closet, but had forgotten. "Er."

"Are you staying here?"

Harry ran his hand over the back of his neck. "For a little bit, yeah."

Draco’s eyes widened. "Is this a one-night thing or ..." He left the rest of his sentence hanging.

"Two, actually." At Draco’s puzzled look, he added, "I gave Ginny two days to move out."

After nearly a minute of awkward silence, Draco’s look turned from shocked to amused. "Impressive."

"What?"

"I never would have ... I just figured you’d ... you’re all about forgiveness and ..."

If Harry hadn’t been in such a frazzled state himself, he’d have found Draco’s inability to spit out what he was thinking more humorous. "You sound as articulate as you usually accuse me of being."

"Shut up," he said and a grin tugged at his lips. "It’s just that I’d never have imagined you’d kick her out. That just seems so ..."

"Mean? Spiteful?"

"Normal."

"Gee, thanks." Harry tried to look offended, but based on Draco’s smirk, he didn’t think he’d succeeded.

"Well, I mean really. You forgive people, you help people, you save people. You’re not _normal_ , Potter. You’re constantly putting other people’s interests before your own, and I have to say I’m impressed. It’s high time you did something for _you_ for a change."

"Careful, Malfoy. That almost sounded like a compliment."

Draco shrugged. "It wasn’t meant to be." He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _Hufflepuff_. "But, well ... since you probably do find that complimentary, don’t let it go to your head or anything."

Harry chuckled. "I’ll try not to."

"So why are you here? Why not kick her out right away?"

Harry’s face grew warm. "Because that _would_ be mean."

Draco coughed out, "Normal." Harry balled up a piece of parchment and pitched it at his head.

He caught it and lobbed it back at Harry, then went to get his tea. As he sat down with it, he said, "I’ll head out after I’m done this. Leave you to get some rest."

"You don’t have to," Harry said without thinking. As soon as his brain caught up to his mouth, and he realised what that might sound like, he added, "I mean, if it’s going to bother you being there, you can stay a bit longer. I’ll be up for a while yet." He didn’t miss the hint of a smile as Draco sipped his tea.

After a short time, Harry was deep into reading an older report about Rowle’s associates from his younger days when Draco brought him back to the present. "Was it awful?" he asked.

Harry tossed the report onto the table and ran his hands over his face. He didn’t need Draco to explain what _it_ he was referring to. Harry wasn’t sure how to answer. He ran over the events of the day once more – something he’d hoped to escape while he was here. "Not as bad as watching your memory in the Pensieve," he said with conviction.

That seemed to surprise Draco. He sat up straighter and tilted his head to the side, considering Harry. He could practically hear the wheels in Draco’s brain spinning. "How so?"

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it. After a few minutes of silence, he relented. It’s not like Draco hadn’t already confessed to Harry how he felt, even if he had been drunk. "I don’t know how to describe it, really. I guess it was like watching an oncoming train, unable to get out of its path, watching how Ron and Ginny hammered away at you. I hadn’t seen that side of either of them, and they seemed to be enjoying it. They enjoyed hurting you." Draco’s expression softened. "I hated seeing that and not being able to stop it. It was like a punch to the gut. They looked so pleased with themselves, Ginny in particular, that I wanted to scream at them to stop. And I kinda wanted to punch Ron."

Draco gave a half-grin. "For what it’s worth, I wanted to do the same."

"I wish you had," Harry said. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t do just that the next time he saw Ron. "Then, beyond the outward anger I felt at what they were doing to _you_ , there was a raw, burning sensation deep inside me at what they had done to _us_. That feeling hasn’t left me. They fucked with our lives and they stayed silent about it for five years. Five years! Every passage of time – every week, month, year they said nothing – feels like a new betrayal, something they allowed to happen over and over and over again."

Draco stared at his empty cup. "I should have told you sooner."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you should have."

"I’m sorry." He spoke to his cup. "I wanted to. So many times I wanted to."

"So why didn’t you?"

"I nearly did, more than once. But then I’d see how well you were doing, and ... it wouldn’t have been fair. You’d moved on, you were making a great life for yourself, and I’d only have held you back."

Harry scowled. "How can you say that?"

"First, you got the Order of Merlin for services during the war. Then there was the dedication of that wing of Hogwarts after the school reopened. Then you set up that house for war orphans."

"Okay," Harry interrupted. The Order of Merlin had been awarded to many people who’d fought in the war, so he’d accepted that and made a point of reinforcing that he’d been just one of many. And yes, the orphanage had been his brainchild, after seeing the serviceable but desolate place Voldemort had grown up in, but he’d wanted to do it quietly and so many others had been instrumental in bringing it to fruition. The Hogwarts wing was just downright embarrassing. He was just a kid that went there, broke a bunch of rules, and blundered his way into ending Voldemort. He still felt weird about it. "But none of that would have changed if you’d told me."

"Maybe not those things, but everything that followed would have, and I knew it. The public loved you – they still do. Like I said, you always put other people before yourself. You’re a war hero with a heart that never hesitates to help anyone that asks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I’m not perfect."

Draco snorted. "I know that. But the public doesn’t. All they see is what the media chooses to show them. And you’re the media’s darling, even now."

"Arseholes," Harry grunted. "They’d turn on me in an instant if they thought it would help them sell more papers."

"Exactly my point. They would have turned on you in a heartbeat if they’d found out about us." He let that settle before continuing. "Say what you will about the weasel and weaselette, but they weren’t wrong. I watched as you became the unofficial lead of a new generation of Aurors, praised as the top of your class, then assigned to Kingsley’s special task force to eliminate corruption in the Ministry."

"I wasn’t the only one," Harry countered.

Draco ignored him. "You had the highest case clearance rate of any Auror, and got promoted within two years of graduation."

Harry wasn’t sure if he should be flattered that Draco had followed his career so closely, or irritated at the non-stop press coverage he got. "That’s because I poured every ounce of myself into the job."

"You’re in line to become Head Auror and, no doubt, it’s only a matter of time until you’re heading up the DMLE. There are even rumours of your future as Minister of Magic."

Harry nearly choked on that last one. "Good god, could you imagine _me_ trying to navigate the politics of being the Minister?"

Draco chuckled. "Okay, I never bought into that one. You’d be horrible."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Truth be told, it was comforting to have someone acknowledge his shortcomings.

He shrugged. "Well, it’s true and we both know it. But all the rest? That’s you. It’s all you. You deserve every bit of it. Ron was right. You’re a leader and you deserve the chance to make a difference."

He didn’t feel like a leader half the time. But then, the other half of the time he just acted on instinct and people followed his lead. It just came naturally. "Maybe," he conceded. 

"Definitely."

"Fine. Even if what you say is true, why would that have stopped you from telling me the truth?"

"Because you’d probably have done something noble and stupid, ruining your chance to prove what you can do."

"Noble and stupid?"

"Yeah, like coming out publicly about us, only to be crucified by the media."

Harry shrugged. "I’ve been through worse."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But the reality is that the public – at least a good portion of it – would have turned on you and would have challenged everything you did."

"So what? Like I care what everyone says about me. I can –"

Draco raised a hand to stop him. " _You_ might be strong enough to withstand the media and the public – you’ve had a lifetime to hone those skills – but would your bosses be? Even if Kingsley would, could you say the same for every person that would ever have a say in your possible promotion? You may not be Minister, but you know that politics play a big role in everything the Ministry does. And you’d have been right in the middle of it. A liability."

"I –"

"Here’s the thing. Even if I hated what they said to me, they were right. Being with me would have prevented you from achieving your goals. It would have been selfish of me to stay."

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. "What does that even mean? I never wanted you to leave. How could it be selfish for you to do what I wanted?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "You told me yourself just the other day that you love your job. If you couldn’t have been an Auror, how long would it have been before you resented me?"

Harry thought about that. What life would be like if he weren’t an Auror. Then he thought about what his life had been like without Draco. "I wouldn’t have resented you."

"You probably never would have said anything. Would have stayed with me just to prove a point, no matter how miserable you were. It would have killed me to watch that happen, to watch you grow to loathe me, see you look at me with contempt. So that’s why I never told you. But every now and again I regretted it." He looked Harry in the eye then. "No, that’s not right. I regretted it every single day. But then I’d see an article about you. About how you were the Ministry’s golden boy and how everybody loved you and what an amazing Auror and leader and role model you were. And then I’d tell myself that, no matter how much it hurt, I’d done the right thing. Maybe not for me, but for you."

"But how could you know if it was right for me if you never asked?" Harry tried but failed to keep the pain out of his voice. "You never gave me the chance to make that choice for myself."

"I know, and for that I’m sorry. Really, really sorry." He sounded sorry. Harry remembered the previous night and Draco’s drunken confession and knew he _was_ sorry. But was it enough for Harry to forgive him? "But, like I said before, you would have put me before yourself, like you always do. This was my chance to put you first. For once in my life, I didn’t do the selfish thing."

His words echoed in the silence that followed. Harry broke it by saying, "You put your parents first, too. You weren’t always selfish, no matter what you think."

He waved away Harry’s comment. "Don’t get me wrong, I was angry. So angry that they’d put me in that situation, made me look at myself, made me think about how us being together could hurt you. Made me acknowledge what I already knew: that you deserve so much better than me. 

"I won’t lie. It killed me to see you with her, when you eventually got back together. Then I really wanted to tell you. Warn you about her. Fuck this selfless shit; I suck at it. But then I remembered the two of you in school and I figured you’d have a chance at happiness. And your career kept progressing, so as time went on, it just became harder and harder to convince myself that I should tell you. You’d moved on without me and your life was great. Who the hell was I to ruin that? And I convinced myself that, in the end, you’d have ended up hating me anyway, so everyone was better off with a clean break."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I could never hate you?"

Draco ran his hands through his hair, looking utterly miserable. "But I didn’t know that then. We’d spent years hating, or nearly hating each other. And only a few months ... not."

"And the way it ended?" Harry said. "That was anything but a clean break."

"What do you mean? I thought I’d made it clear."

"It came right out of left field, hit me like a bludger to the head. I had no idea, no hint, no inkling that you didn’t feel the same way I did. And then ... out of nowhere. You blindsided me and before I had the chance to process what you were saying, you were gone."

He began to reach for Harry’s hand, but pulled back. "I’m so sorry."

Harry didn’t want to hear how sorry he was. "So you’ve said." His head reeled from the ups and downs of the last few days. Had it really only been a few days since his life had been turned upside down? "So why tell me now? What do you expect from me? What do you want?"

Draco ran fingers over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as though warding off a headache. "I did it for you."

"Excuse me?"

"The other day, when you told me ... you said that you had me to thank for never trusting your feelings. I didn’t know."

Harry had a vague recollection of saying something to that effect. "But you didn’t say anything then."

He didn’t seem to hear. "I never meant to hurt you." Harry snorted derisively. "Okay, I knew my words would bite, but we’d said awful things to each other in the past. I figured you’d just chalk it all up to me being the arsehole you always pegged me for, and you’d move on. If I were lucky, you’d remember me as an interesting, if ill-advised, diversion from your past that you’d move on from. I never knew that I had the power to hurt you that deeply."

Harry clenched his jaw but showed no other outward sign that he’d hit the mark. "So you told me to ease your conscience?"

"No." He shook his head and took a moment to continue. Harry used that time to study the distress on his face. He wanted to wipe away the lines between his eyes. "You surprised me when you told me what a lasting impact ... well. But still, I told myself you were better off. And you were happy with her. I hated myself for what I’d said to you, how I’d ended things, but telling you would have only made things worse. I don’t know." He got up and began pacing, eyes darting around like a caged animal looking for escape. "But then you said, so insistently, so emphatically, that it’s always better to know the truth. Always. _Especially_ when it hurts."

"It’s true," Harry said, and he believed that with everything in him. He’d been lied to enough over the years. The truth, no matter what it was, he could deal with. He’d get past the pain.

"Is it really?" He stopped pacing and stood staring at Harry for a good long minute. "Because you look ... well, you look like shit."

Harry ran his hand through his mop of unruly hair. "Yeah? Well, you don’t look so great yourself."

"I’ve been better," Draco acknowledged, slumping back down into his chair. "But seriously, Harry. Please tell me I did the right thing. That I didn’t make things worse for you."

Harry gave a half-hearted grin. "You did the right thing."

"Really? Because I swear I never wanted to ..." He squeezed the back of his neck and rolled his head from side to side. "I never expected you to throw her out of your house."

Harry frowned, puzzled at this statement. "What did you expect me to do? Continue living a lie?"

"I don’t know. I just ... well, you’d been together for so long, I guess I just thought you’d clear the air and move on. Together."

"So you didn’t expect us to break up? Hadn’t hoped that would be the end result?"

He caught Harry’s gaze and held it until it almost became awkward before looking away. "I won’t deny hoping for that in the past. Many times, if I’m honest. But yesterday? I hadn’t thought it through. Hadn’t considered anything beyond telling, or rather showing you the truth."

Harry narrowed his eyes, acutely aware he was dealing with a Slytherin. He wanted to believe Draco, but he couldn’t let his guard down. He felt raw enough already. "So what would you say if I were to suggest ... oh, I don’t know ... let’s get together, scratch that itch, just one more time?" Draco’s head shot up and his eyes widened. Harry leaned across the table towards him. "You know, for old time’s sake."

Draco pulled back. "That’s not funny."

Harry sat back slowly and crossed his arms over his chest. "I’m not laughing."

Draco’s mouth went slack and he stared at Harry. Kept staring, eyes boring into Harry’s own. "I –"

"Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it."

He blinked. "Nearly every day for five years."

"So what’s the problem, then?"

His face hardened and a mask of indifference fell over his features. "What are you playing at?"

Harry shrugged. "Isn’t this what you suggested yourself? How had you put it? Should I want to fuck occasionally. I think those were your words. On the side and in private, of course. Not that either of us would be doing it on the side, now, but still. This is private. And no one need ever know."

Draco winced. "I didn’t mean that."

"No? Then why say it?"

"Because I knew you’d never do that."

Harry smirked. "True. I would never knowingly do something that would hurt someone else – your wife, for instance."

"Harry, please. I told you I was sorry. I came up with the best way I knew how to get you to _not_ want to be with me."

Harry wasn’t sure where all this was coming from, but it seemed all his old pain and hurt, and his desperate need for answers, for the truth, had bubbled up to the surface. And while he had Draco here, he would get what answers he could. Today. Now. "See, now that’s what I don’t understand. It’s like you were trying to make me hate you. Why do that? Why not just break things off and move on?" 

Once more, he got up. At first Harry thought he was going to leave, but then he started to pace again. Harry let the silence stretch. He had all night, after all. Eventually, Draco spoke. "Because I didn’t think I was strong enough. If I had to face you again, see you look at me with anything but loathing in your eyes, I don’t think I could have kept the truth from you. I don’t think I could have stopped myself reaching out. Touching you. Kissing you." He stopped his pacing and leaned his forehead against the wall and mumbled, "I can barely do that now, all this time later."

Harry could understand that. Just seeing Draco again had brought everything back to the forefront of his mind. He would never act on his feelings, not while he was with Ginny. And not while he was on the case investigating threats against Draco. But he couldn’t deny how hard it was to be around Draco. To fight his feelings.

"So, then. If I asked you, again, to just ... you know. Fuck. One more time. Your answer would be?"

He let out a moan, then pushed away from the wall, turned around and leaned back against it, closing his eyes and banging his head lightly against the surface. "Are you trying to kill me?" His voice cracked.

"No," Harry said. "Just asking a simple question."

Draco laughed but his eyes squeezed together in pain. "But that’s just it, isn’t it? Nothing’s ever been simple between us."

"And?"

"And my answer would be no, because I don’t think I could walk away again. And if I could, I wouldn’t want some one-off fuck to be what I remember of us."

"So you really wouldn’t?"

"Of course I would!" he shouted, pushing away from the wall and marching over to stand in front of Harry. He put his hands on the table and leaned in. "I would say no because I know that would be the right thing to do. For self-preservation, if nothing else. But all you’d have to do is look at me the way you used to. Or smile at me. Or touch me. And I’d be lost. I’d do whatever you wanted for however long I could. Because I’m utterly defenceless when it comes to you."

"Okay," Harry said. "Just so we’re clear."

Draco stood back up, looking utterly spent, and took several deep breaths. "I should go."

"Probably best," Harry agreed.

It was only after several hours of tossing and turning, his mind processing all the events of the past few days, that Harry finally relented and took out the phial of Dreamless Sleep he’d packed. He poured the liquid down his throat and saw Draco’s face one last time before the potion took hold and he drifted into darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, when he arrived at the Ministry, Harry went directly to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, making a beeline for the Improper Use of Magic Office. He’d decided it was time to involve others in the case, particularly if he wanted to track down Rowle quickly. He didn’t want to give him time to get away while Harry figured out how to narrow down his search.

"Auror Potter," Brian MacInness, a harried but cheerful gentleman in his fifties, greeted him. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Harry smiled. "Hi, Mac. I was hoping you could help me on a case."

"At your disposal," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Harry decided he wouldn’t mention Draco unless necessary. Mac was never one to question Harry’s requests too closely, so he didn’t think it would come to that. "I’m wondering if you can tell me about magical occurrences in Romford." At Mac’s frown, he added, "Any chance you already have surveillance in the area? Considering it’s a primarily Muggle suburb, I thought you might. It could really save me some time."

He winked in response. "We do, indeed. Not sure what help it’ll be, but I can check the records. How far back to you need?"

"That’d be great," Harry said. "I’m looking for any significant changes over the last –" He thought about how long the devices had been at Draco’s and added a couple of months as a buffer "– at least eight months. Specifically changes in the amount of magic either cast in the area or sent to the area."

"Sent to?"

"Yeah. We’ve found some surveillance equipment that transmitted information to the general vicinity, but I’m trying to narrow it down to a particular residence. I’m guessing it’d be in the magical neighbourhood near Raphael Park, but if you could check all of Romford, I’d appreciate it."

"Sure thing. When do you need it by?"

"Yesterday?" Harry asked hopefully. Mac rolled his eyes. "I know, we always ask for rush jobs, but in this case, someone’s being threatened and I have no way of knowing when the suspect or suspects will bolt, likely as soon as they figure out their bugs have been removed. So the sooner, the better." Harry considered how much to disclose while Mac pulled some files. He decided to err on the side of Draco’s safety. "Keep this to yourself, but it’s a Death Eater long presumed dead, and I’d like to see him locked up for good this time."

His eyes widened. "Of course, Harry. I should have something for you by the end of the day."

Harry grinned. Nothing like the threat of a Voldemort sycophant to light a fire under someone. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Should I send the report to your office?"

Harry wondered where he’d be when the report came in. Most likely at the hotel. "I’ve got some work to do outside the office today. How about you just send me an owl and I’ll come to pick it up directly? I don’t want something like that sitting on my desk."

"No problem. I’ll get right on it."

"Cheers."

Harry stifled a grin as he watched the usually subdued Mac positively twitching in his seat at the prospect of helping with a case involving a Death Eater.

Back in his office, Harry dealt with a few messages and some follow up on two of his pending cases. Ron’s team still hadn’t returned from Yorkshire, though he suspected they’d be back soon. Inwardly, he was grateful. He didn’t fancy the fallout with his friend any more than he’d enjoyed the confrontation with Ginny. He’d have plenty of time to deal with that after Draco’s case was closed. Or at least after today.

Forcing himself not to return to the Improper Use of Magic Office, knowing Mac would be on the case and would let him know as soon as he found anything, Harry headed back to the hotel to work on the case undisturbed.

When an owl tapped on the window about an hour after he’d settled in, Harry looked up hopefully, only to recognise Pig. He opened the window and the ever-excitable ball of feathers zoomed around the room until Harry was able to snatch him mid-air. "Come on, you. It’s just a hotel room. Nothing to get that stirred up about."

He removed the scroll and opened it. He smiled.

> Harry, feel like meeting up for supper at the Leaky? Say seven o’clock? Ron’s still away and I thought we could catch up. Give response to Pig. Love, Hermione.

He replied in the affirmative and got back to work feeling a bit more cheerful. He and Hermione hadn’t had a chance to talk on their own since last Christmas when they’d stolen a few moments at the annual Weasley Christmas at the Burrow. It’d be nice to chat.

A few hours later, Harry tossed aside the papers he’d been staring at, bleary-eyed, for the past ten minutes. Something was niggling at the back of his mind and he’d become distracted. Though there’d been no arrangement between them for Draco to return, and there weren’t any outstanding questions he needed to talk to him about, Harry had somehow expected him to show up. In a matter of a few days, he’d grown accustomed to seeing Draco. Looked forward it, despite the emotional upheaval caused by their close proximity.

As he replayed yesterday’s intensely charged conversation, he wondered if he’d been too harsh. He’d only wanted to be sure of Draco’s motivation. That and, when it came down to it, Harry’d had all that bottled up inside for five years. He supposed it was a lucky thing he hadn’t blurted all that out on day one. But he hadn’t _meant_ to throw Draco’s words back in his face, no matter how much they still stung. 

In the bright light of day, he realised that Draco had actually poured his heart out to Harry. He’d laid himself bare and had to have been vulnerable. Something Draco hated to be, fought against always. Add to that the new-found knowledge of what had prompted that conversation all those years ago, and Harry began to feel like a right shit.

As he was about to send a message to Draco telling him just that, another tap came at the window. He let the owl in and found a message from Mac. Forgetting everything else, he Apparated to the Ministry, hoping that this might be the break he needed in the case.

It was and it wasn’t. Mac had narrowed down some peculiar activity to a particular residence. He hadn’t taken note of it right away, because it wasn’t a particularly large wave of magic, but after finding no such surge in magical activity, he went back to study the records with a closer eye.

"This pattern started about six months ago at one house. See this?" He pointed to a page that showed a line graph, one that was mainly flat, with blips where the line shot up and then back down again every so often. "See how it sits at a low level?" Harry nodded. "That’s just ambient magic – keeping the wards up, interior climate at a constant level, that sort of thing. But then look at these." He pointed to peaks in the line where there’d been increases in magic.

Harry studied them. "They look almost rhythmic."

Mac grinned and nodded. "Exactly. That’s what caught my eye. There’s nothing random about it. In fact, there seems to be nothing going on for a two-week period, then boom, a surge of magic – incoming, by the way – and then nothing for another two weeks. Then, like clockwork, incoming magic, then nothing."

"What do you think that means?"

"My best guess is that this place is not being lived in. There’d be a lot more magic, and it’d fluctuate whenever spells were cast. Looks to me like it’s set up as a place to receive those signals you were talking about, but nothing else."

"So that if someone – the Aurors, for instance – discovered the transmissions, the person’s whereabouts would remain concealed, because they weren’t actually _there_."

"That sounds about right," Mac agreed.

Harry looked at the last date of transmission, and sure enough it was the same day his trace had detected the transmission from Draco’s flat. That gave him less than two weeks before the next one. "How strong do you figure the wards are, based on the level of ambient magic in place?"

"Strong," he said. "But not Auror-level strong, if that’s any help."

Harry nodded. "It is. Thanks."

"Anytime." He flipped to the last page and pointed at an address. "That’s the place." Harry tapped it with his finger and committed it to memory. Mac handed over his report. "Good luck, and you’ll let me know when you catch the bastard, yeah?"

"You’ll be one of the first," Harry assured him. "Now go home; it’s late."

Mac chuckled. "Will do. But you knew I couldn’t leave without finishing this."

"Yeah, you rock, Mac."

"Tell my boss that."

Harry tucked away the report and ran from the room, determined to share the news with Draco. He called over his shoulder, "You can count on it."

He took out the coin and sent Draco a message. _News on the case. Need to talk._

By the time he got back to the hotel, he only had a quarter of an hour before he had to leave for his dinner with Hermione. He spent the time planning his strategy to catch Rowle. He needed to stake out the place, scan the wards and try to gain entry. He ruled out going for a warrant, not with Draco’s life at risk and the delays he knew would face him in order to get one. If he could get one. The evidence was clear to Harry, but did not amount to anything that could justify a warrant. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. And when it came to a Death Eater, it didn’t even matter if this case fell apart; Rowle would be returned to Azkaban for life based on prior crimes. It was a win-win in Harry’s book.

He’d need to set his own trap, undetected, to catch anyone entering the place. He suspected Rowle might not show up himself, so Harry needed to attach a tracking charm to whomever entered, then follow them – hopefully right to Rowle.

When it was time to leave and he’d not heard back from Draco, he got himself ready and made his way to the Leaky. He’d have to bring Draco up to speed later. 

He met Hermione outside the pub and when they went in, he placed their drinks order while she grabbed a table in back. After taking his order, the bartender motioned him on ahead to the table. "Replacing the keg. Just about done, but it’ll be a couple of minutes more. I’ll have Kathie bring the drinks round as soon as we’re done."

"Cheers," Harry said and he made his way to the table. As he approached, the busboy deposited two glasses of water, cutlery and napkins and moved to the next table to pick up the empty glasses left behind. "They’ll bring the drinks over," Harry told Hermione. 

"Sounds good." No sooner did he get his bum in his seat than she said, "So, I thought it best to meet on neutral ground."

"What?" Harry laughed. "Why would we need neutral ground?"

She fidgeted in her seat, turning her fork over in her hand before putting it down and looking up at Harry. "Well, Ron’s away right now, but could come home at any minute." She bit her bottom lip, then said, "And I know that you’re not staying at home right now."

"How did you –?" But of course he knew. "Never mind. Ginny."

"Yes, Ginny. She came by to see me last night." She looked at Harry as if to see into his mind. He Occluded himself, just in case. "She was a right mess."

Harry shrugged, then picked up his glass of water and took a sip. He could use that pint, damn it. "Was she?" He was going for indifferent but suspected he sounded angrier than he’d hoped.

Hermione frowned. "Yes, she was." Her voice was harsh and came out rather louder than she’d expected, if her look of surprise was any indication. She cast a swift silencing charm and continued. "And I can’t say that I blame her." She glared at Harry, but he said nothing. Anger was beginning to swirl around in his gut and he needed a moment before he tried to speak. "What were you thinking, Harry? After all this time, demanding that she get out? And in two days!" She looked disgusted. Still he said nothing. He waited for her to continue, so he could get a fuller picture of precisely what Ginny had told her.

She picked up her napkin and started twisting it in her hands. When she realised what she was doing, she tossed it onto the table. "I blame myself, you know."

"What?" he said. "How did you work that out?" Had she known all along what Ginny and Ron had done? Had she been a part of it? Planned it? Helped them keep it from him?

She rolled her eyes as though he’d said something incredibly stupid. "I’m the one that told her to tell you how she felt. That she wanted to get married. I never expected you would throw her out for that." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Harry.

Thankfully, the waitress came over with their drinks and Hermione ended the charm. "Sorry for the wait. Can I get you anything else?" Harry smiled and took a long pull of his beer, debating ordering another right then.

"Not right now, thank you," Hermione said, plastering on a smile. She took a perfunctory sip of her wine and Kathie left.

"Well?" she said, glaring daggers at Harry. He raised his brows and she said, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry sat back and took another long draw from his pint, letting it slide down his throat and cool him down slightly before answering her. He placed it down carefully and cast a fresh silencing charm over their table. He leaned forward and smiled. "What precisely did Ginny say to you? What is it that I’m supposed to have done that has you this riled with me?"

Hermione scowled. She was used to getting answers, not questions thrown back at her. "She said that you’d planned a nice dinner at home for the two of you and that you were going to talk about wedding plans afterwards."

He showed his surprise before reaching for his glass once more. He sipped it slowly this time, then put it back down. "Funny, I don’t remember saying anything about wedding plans."

Hermione looked confused. "But Ginny said –"

"Yes, I have an idea of what she might have said. In truth, she mentioned marriage after visiting with you. What you might not know is that we’d been having ... _issues_ already and the last thing on my mind was getting married. Which I told her. I only agreed to _talk_ the next day." Her brows furrowed as she digested that bit of news. "What else did she say?"

She picked up her glass and stared into it. Harry recognised this as her ‘going over a conversation in her head’ look. He let her work through it. "Well, she burst into tears at that point. Then said something about you saying awful things to her and something about work and something else about her not knowing you and then you told her to get out and you left."

Harry barked out a laugh, drained his glass and motioned to the barkeep for another. "So let me get this straight," he said. "First, I was planning some romantic dinner as a prelude to a discussion of our forthcoming wedded bliss, is that right?" She fidgeted, but nodded. "Right, then out of nowhere I spewed off a bunch of horrible things, announced she didn’t know me and kicked her out of the house?"

"Yes, with only two days to move."

He nodded and took a fortifying breath. "So you, naturally, think I’m a right bastard."

"Well ..."

"So you’ve made up your mind about me, then. No point hearing my side."

She grabbed the napkin again. "I didn’t say that."

"No," Harry said, "but you certainly came at me, guns blazing."

"You haven’t denied kicking her out."

"No."

"And you’re not staying at the house right now."

"No."

"And you’re not getting married."

He laughed. "Oh, hell, no." Blessedly, Kathie brought his second beer. He dropped the spell, lifted his beer in a toast and thanked her, then erected the spell once more. He took a sip.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Well what?"

"What happened?"

He leaned forward across the table. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She frowned. "Of course I want to know. I care about both of you and I can’t believe it’s over, not after all this time."

Harry reached once more for his beer and took a slow sip, savouring the bitter taste. "Oh, it’s over. It’s definitely over."

"But why?"

"Let’s just say that – after I’d agreed to talk with Ginny – I found out some disturbing news." He hesitated but – knowing that Hermione’s determination would wear him down eventually – continued. "I don’t think you really want to know what happened."

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because it involves Ron, too."

She took a large sip of her wine at those words, then fixed her gaze on Harry. "Now I really want to know."

"I don’t think you do, but ..."

"Spit it out, Harry."

So he told her. Everything. He’d expected shock when he told her about his short-lived relationship with Draco, but she just smiled and said, "I always wondered."

That threw him. "Wondered _what_?"

She shrugged. "If the two of you would ever stop pulling each other’s pigtails long enough to see if there was anything there." The shock he’d expected from Hermione bloomed on his own face as his mouth fell open. She chuckled. "What? I always thought there was some serious chemistry going on there – well, at least from fifth year on. It’s just we were ... well, rather busy with other things for me to come right out and ask you. And with Draco’s father ... being who he was ..."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You really are far too smart for your own good."

She laughed and toasted him. "So, go on. Then what happened?"

"Ron and Ginny happened."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"They went behind my back, to Draco, and told him to break things off with me. Told him he’d ruin my life, no one would ever hire me as an Auror, let alone anything more. They even suggested the Ministry might lock me up to prevent such a strong wizard – me – from being influenced by a Death Eater – him."

She laughed at that last bit. "I’d like to have seen them try that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that was a bit far-fetched, but the rest resonated. It worked. He called things off, said it had never meant anything. Said he would dutifully marry a pureblood witch but ..." This part was hard to say, even now, even knowing now that he hadn’t meant it at the time. "But we could get together and fuck – on the side and in private – once in a while. You know, _after_ he got married."

Hermione gasped. "He didn’t."

"He did." Harry took another pull of his pint and stared at the table. "He was very convincing."

"And you believed him."

He slid his glass from hand to hand. "Not at first, I didn’t. I mean, I had no idea _why_ he’d said what he had, but as time went on and he didn’t contact me, I started to believe it. Realised that I’d been a complete idiot. I couldn’t trust my own instincts, started to wonder what sort of useless Auror I’d be if I couldn’t even see through something like that, from someone I’d spent years distrusting."

Hermione stopped his glass mid-slide and grabbed his hand. She squeezed. "I’m so sorry, Harry."

He looked up at her and knew at once she’d not known a thing before now. "Yeah, me too."

He felt raw, exposed under her gaze. He reached for the menus and thrust one into her hands. "We should order some food before I drink my supper and I can’t walk out of here."

She smiled and nodded. By the time Kathie returned to take their orders, Harry’d composed himself reasonably well and was able to enjoy the meal with his friend. He could face everything else tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

When Harry arrived back at the hotel, he was surprised to find Draco there, hands wrapped around a nearly empty mug of tea, staring into it. Relieved – he hadn’t realised just how worried he’d been after getting no response – he took off his gloves and cloak, tossing them onto the chair in the corner of the room. "Hey. Did you get my message?"

Draco continued to look at his cup. "I’m here, aren’t I?" A hint of his old sneering tone underpinned his words.

Harry reached into his pocket and took out his coin, but – as he’d thought – there was no message. He said nothing, presuming Draco wouldn’t appreciate if he said he’d been concerned.

As though reading Harry’s thoughts, Draco volunteered, "I worked all day and had dinner with my mother afterwards. I left the coin at home. When I got back to my flat, I saw your message and just Apparated over."

Harry tried not to sound too annoyed. "Maybe you should try carrying it with you, just in case."

He looked up then and glared at Harry. "What? So you can get hold of me, keep tabs on me day or night?"

Harry’s face turned red, half from embarrassment, half from annoyance. "No, you twat. I was thinking so that _you_ could get hold of _me_. You know ... in case something happened. Last I checked, there was someone out there threatening you."

The scowl dropped from his face. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." 

Draco sighed and dropped his gaze back to his cup. "I arrived about twenty minutes ago, but you weren’t here." 

"Went out for supper." Harry scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling utterly gutted by his emotions. It had been a trying week and his dinner with Hermione – though it had ended on a pleasant note – had worn him down even more. And he suspected Draco’s tetchiness was a direct result of their last conversation. "Look, I"m sorry I was such a shit to you yesterday."

Draco’s head whipped up, eyes widening in surprise. Then he shrugged. "It’s okay."

"No, it’s not. I never should have thrown your words back in your face. Not after ..."

Draco stared off at a place behind Harry’s shoulder. "I deserved it. No need to apologise."

"I –" Harry wiped his now-sweaty palms on his jeans. "I guess ... look, it’s not an excuse, but ... well, I’ve spent the last five years replaying that conversation in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong, how I could have been so blind, so stupid, so ..." He sighed, frustrated at his inability to cobble together the words he needed to tell Draco what he meant, how he felt. "And I’ve only had about five _minutes_ to process what really happened back then. It might take me a while." He wanted to move on, but it was hard. "I’ll try not to be too much of a dick in the meantime."

He pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from Draco and willed him to be patient. "Plus I never told anybody about us. Not a soul. Well, not until tonight anyway. And so I guess it’s been bottled up inside me for so long that it just came spewing out and I’m sorry." 

Draco gave a curt nod. "You told someone tonight? About ... us?"

Harry ran a hand through his mop of hair nervously. He still couldn’t believe he’d told Hermione. Even more difficult to wrap his head around was her reaction. "Yeah. I had dinner with Hermione."

Draco’s look of surprise turned into a roll of the eyes. "It doesn’t count when you tell someone that already knew."

"That’s just it; she didn’t know. I never told anyone and Ron never told her."

"So you mean to say – Wait. What do you mean you never told anyone? How’s that possible? You told –"

"I told no one. Ginny followed me back then. I’m not sure how she and Ron worked things out, but I sure as hell didn’t tell them and they didn’t tell Hermione." Not for the first time, he wanted to smooth away the worry lines between Draco’s eyes. He cleared his throat instead. "We’d agreed, you and I, not to tell anyone. I honoured that."

"Me too," he said so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "I’d just assumed ..."

"Yeah, I figured. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t have, not without talking to you first. Not without you agreeing."

"Oh." He frowned and Harry sensed he was wondering – like Harry had – if knowing that might have led him to a different decision back then. "But you told Granger tonight?"

"I did."

He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. "And what was her reaction? You say she didn’t know? How did it even come up?"

"No, she didn’t know. Funny enough, she didn’t seem all that surprised." Draco’s mouth fell open and Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Smart girl. As for how it came up, it’s an amusing story, actually." At Draco’s _pull the other one_ look – and how was it that Harry still recognised all of Draco’s looks? – he continued. "It seems my darling ex decided to tell her sister-in-law what an utter shit I am."

Draco laughed. "And this surprised you?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose not, but ... well, she didn’t think it through much, did she?"

"Clearly" Draco snorted. "She is a Gryffindor, after all. Jump right in, damn the consequences."

"Too true," Harry conceded. "Anyway, I’m not sure what she expected to gain by doing that."

"She wanted Granger to help her get you back." He looked at Harry like he was an idiot, which – insofar as his personal life went – he supposed was fair, particularly when it came to Ginny. "Obviously."

Harry let out a huff of frustration. "I told her to give me space."

"So that later you’d take her back."

"Well, yeah. That’s how she interpreted it."

"You really are an idiot, Potter."

"But I told her that there was no chance. Not now, not in the future. But she needed to give me space so we wouldn’t hate each other forever."

Draco shook his head slowly. "Which means now she’s got nothing to lose."

"What do you mean?"

"If you told her that you will _never_ get back with her, there’s nothing worse in her eyes. So now she might as well throw all that she’s got at you." Harry’s mouth opened and shut, and he wondered how this was so clear to Draco. "First, she tried the most obvious thing – going to Granger, since she’s not only her sister-in-law, but your best friend. And smarter than all of you." He smirked at Harry. "No offence."

Harry laughed. "None taken."

"If that doesn’t work –"

"It _won’t_ work."

"Fine. _When_ that doesn’t work, she’ll try something else. And then something else. And something else again."

Harry dragged his hand through his hair, nearly pulling a clump out in frustration. "But that won’t get her anything. It’s certainly not going to win me back. In fact, I’ll just end up hating her."

"Ah, but don’t you see, Harry? That old saying – there’s a fine line between love and hate – is a saying for a reason. If you _hate_ her, that means you still _feel_ something for her. Which means there’s a chance. However slim that may be."

"That’s all sorts of fucked up."

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "That, Harry, is the art of manipulation."

"But –"

"You’re out of your depths if you think you know what’s coming next." He shook his head in bemusement. "Tell me something."

"Hmm?"

"What got you to notice her in the first place? I mean you knew her for years. As I remember, she’d followed you around like a lost little crup, always there just in case there was a chance you’d see her, pay attention to her. But you didn’t. And then ... you did. Why was that?"

"I –" Harry thought back. "She was herself. Acted like a normal person, self-confident, smart. Like she is."

"Oh, I’ve no doubt she’s smart. Not Granger-level smart, but cunning." Harry watched the wheels spinning in Draco’s head with fascination. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she date a few people before you? All in fairly quick succession?"

"I suppose."

"And could it have been seeing her with _other_ blokes that got your attention?"

Harry recalled his chest monster from that year. "Maybe."

Draco stared at Harry, clearly waiting for him to put the pieces together. When Harry said nothing more, he threw his hands up in the air. "Honestly, Potter. How are you a Senior Auror again? She manipulated you into going out with her in the first place by making you jealous. Then she manipulated our relationship."

"You mean she manipulated _you_ ," Harry said with a smug sense of satisfaction.

"Well, yes, but not without the help of her brother and some pretty valid concerns."

"Semantics."

Draco glared but went on. "So her manipulations have worked in the past, have managed to get her exactly what she wanted – you. I’d wager she’s been manipulating her parents and her brothers her whole life and probably doesn’t even know how to turn that off."

Harry studied him. "You’re really good at reading people," he admitted.

"I am," Draco acknowledged. "Most of the time." He considered Harry for a moment before adding, "At least when I’m not too close. It gets messy when feelings are involved. Blurs the lines. Affects one’s judgement." 

Harry nodded. "That’s why Aurors aren’t supposed to get investigate cases where people close to them are involved."

Draco raised a brow, silently acknowledging the obvious about their current circumstances. "I think that’s why we always see the best in our parents, our friends, the ones we care most about. They’re the ones closest to us, the ones that can cause us the most pain, the ones who can make us believe what others would clearly see through."

Harry thought about what Draco was saying and wondered how in the hell Ginny and Ron had been able to manipulate him in the first place. And then it clicked. _Oh._ "Or if there’s a threat – or perceived threat – to someone we care about, we might do something we otherwise wouldn’t."

Draco looked relieved at Harry’s words. "Exactly."

"In other words, you think I should be prepared for anything that Ginny might try to throw at me."

"Don’t you?"

"Fair warning. I’ll keep that in mind." But if she had nothing to lose, how could he ever make it stop? "What would you do?"

"I’m not exactly an objective bystander in all of this," he pointed out.

"No, but you’re someone that has a lot of experience dealing with manipulative people."

Draco frowned but nodded. "With some people, it would be best to ignore them entirely. Most get bored and go away eventually. But I doubt that would work with her. She’s probably been ignored by her brothers – and to a certain extent, her parents, with so many other children to deal with – most of her life. I think in this case, you’d just need to stay on alert, let her know that you are aware of what she’s doing, and show her it isn’t working."

"That sounds exhausting."

Draco grinned. "Indeed."

"Is that what it’s like to be in Slytherin?"

"Pretty much."

"Ugh. I’m glad I told the hat not to put me there."

Draco coughed. "As if that were even an option."

"It was." Harry grinned at the mingled look of horror and surprise on Draco’s face. "It said I’d do well in Slytherin. So I said _not Slytherin_ and it put me in Gryffindor."

"You’re having me on."

Harry leaned forward, shit-eating grin on his face. "Not even a little bit."

"Fuck me," Draco said. Harry shivered, images from another time swimming into his head. He quickly pushed them down, deep down. "How –? What even –? You’d have been eaten alive. You couldn’t have survived."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose we’ll never know."

"How is this the first time I’m hearing of this?" He narrowed his eyes, as though hoping to see into Harry’s thoughts. Harry raised his brows – he never could master the art of the single-brow lift, damn it. "Nothing in the papers, not even a rumour. And you know that would’ve been a big story, given Slytherin’s reputation."

Harry shrugged. "Never told anyone but Dumbledore before."

"Never?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope." He didn’t bother explaining that he hadn’t wanted people to know about it at first. And he wasn’t sure why, even now, he hadn’t told even Ron or Hermione.

"Interesting." He looked intrigued by the news and possibly a bit self-satisfied to be the one Harry’d told. "Maybe you do have it in you to withstand the she-weasel’s sure-to-be-endless attempts to woo you back."

"Definitely." He’d seen enough in the Pensieve to counter any desire to forgive and forget. "Even before you showed me that memory, we weren’t exactly headed towards wedded bliss." He thought back to the separate lives they’d been living – more roommates than anything else – and nodded, more to himself than to Draco. "The fact that she and Ron did that, and then kept it from me for so long, that was just the final straw."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Things hadn’t been going so well for a long time anyway." He tried not to compare, but the way his heart raced around Draco – the way he _wanted_ him, even after everything that had happened, even when convinced that nothing would ever happen between them again – he’d never had that with her. And he didn’t think he could ever settle for less than that again. Not now that he knew the feelings had been real, not something he’d imagined was reciprocated. He wanted that again. Wanted to feel _alive_. 

He shook his head and mumbled to himself, "There’s nothing left there to salvage."

"So if she were to ..." Draco began, his words trailing off.

Harry frowned. He’d been thinking out loud more than anything, bouncing his thoughts off of Draco without considering what he’d been saying and to whom. He shook his head. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this." When Draco didn’t say anything, he rewound their conversation back before they’d wandered off on this tangent. "Right. I was apologising for being a dick to you yesterday." Not quite prepared to let it go entirely, Harry said, "I’m still angry about what happened, and I still think you should have trusted me enough to tell me, but you didn’t deserve that."

Draco looked poised to argue, but then shrugged and sighed. "Okay, then. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. Really sorry. I should have told you a long time ago."

An echo of Draco’s voice from the night before – _I’m utterly defenceless when it comes to you_ – made Harry’s chest ache. He started to reach for Draco’s hand, but pulled up short. That wouldn’t help anything. It might just make things worse, complicate the situation. Not that it wasn’t complicated enough, thanks. "Look, I just need a bit of time to process everything, okay?"

Draco drained the rest of the liquid from his cup and set it down on the table with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Fine."

"More tea?" Harry asked, getting up to make some of the fancy stuff Draco had brought.

"Sure." 

As Harry walked past him, the faint scent of Draco’s after shave recalled another time. Draco had followed Harry into the kitchen, no doubt to supervise, like he’d always done when Harry’d tried to make his fancy tea in the past. He’d been standing at the counter and Draco had come up behind him, pressing his chest to Harry’s back and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry had done his best to fill the kettle and set it to boil while Draco nibbled and kissed his way up Harry’s neck to his ear, eventually drawing the lobe into his mouth, his hands wandering over Harry’s back and chest before coming to rest on his hips. He’d nearly dropped the contents of the package when Draco’s raspy voice had growled, "Can’t keep my hands off you. Want you _now_." Harry shuddered again at the memory.

"Need some help there?" came Draco’s voice from far too close beside him. Harry jumped and spilled some tea leaves in the process, his heart racing. Draco’s chuckle sent shivers down his spine and when his eyes met Draco’s, he saw his own raw need reflected in them. 

With great effort, he looked away, and with shaky hands, picked up the leaves and placed them in the teapot. "Don’t sneak up on a guy like that," he said, his voice nearly as shaky as his hands.

"Sorry." He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. _Fuck_.

Harry set the water to boil. "I can manage, thanks." He was pleased that his voice was once more steady.

Draco snorted. "I can see that."

"Oh, fuck off. Go sit down and I’ll bring the tea to the table."

"Alright, alright." Draco returned to his seat, giving Harry some much-needed space in this suddenly very small room. At least the bed was currently a table. For whatever that was worth. They hadn’t exactly _needed_ a bed every time ... _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Those thoughts weren’t helping anything, though his half-hard prick begged to differ on that assessment. He took a few deep breaths and willed his erection down, stifling a groan. Easier said than done.

As composed as he could get, Harry brought the tea to the table to let it steep. "Your tea is served."

Draco smirked. "So you have some news on the case?"

"Oh, right." Harry’d completely forgotten the reason he’d asked Draco to drop by. "I got an address."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, all teasing gone. "Then why aren’t we there?"

As an afterthought, Harry grabbed a packet of shortbread biscuits he’d bought earlier – the kind Draco liked, and no he wasn’t going to analyse what that meant – and deposited them onto the table. "Because I doubt he’s there. And it’s night. And we need to do some reconnaissance first."

Draco ignored the biscuits. "And we’re not doing that now, why?"

Harry sat down, glad of the table between them. "Because it’s dark and I want to get the lay of the land first. I’ll start tomorrow."

Draco scowled. "I’ve got to go to the lab in the morning, but I should be able to slip out by about eleven, maybe ten if I go in earlier. Shall we meet here and then head over?"

"Hold on. Wait just a minute. _You_ are not going anywhere. I’ll go there _myself_ , scope the place out, determine if anyone is there – highly unlikely – and scan the wards to see what we’re dealing with."

"Excuse me?" Draco said, leaning over the table into Harry’s personal space. "I want to go, too. After all, it’s me he’s after."

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Which is precisely why you shouldn’t go. If Rowle is there, I don’t want to practically hand you over to him."

Draco opened his mouth to argue. Harry raised his hand. "It’s my _job_ , remember? It’s what I do. You wouldn’t expect me to brew an antidote for some poison I’d ingested, would you?"

Draco snorted. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Exactly." He poured the tea and nudged the packet of biscuits towards Draco. "Rowle isn’t some random bloke on the street throwing a hex. He’s highly skilled in the Dark Arts and he’s a mean motherfucker." 

"But –"

Harry held up a hand. "Don’t even bother arguing."

Harry explained his plan for flushing Rowle out, and any potential accomplices. Draco nodded his agreement and reluctantly agreed to stay out of the way. 

***

The next day, Harry attended the morning briefing in the Auror Office – Robards had given him leeway so far, but insisted he show up for at least one per week – and went back to his office afterwards to collect the equipment he needed for the day. 

Before heading to Romford, he needed to check in with Mac to confirm that no further transmissions or surges in magic had occurred at the house. Harry stepped into the elevator and just as the door was about to close, a hand reached out to stop it and Ron entered, effectively cornering him on his way to the lab. So, his team had returned. And now he and Harry were alone for the first time since Harry had found out what he and Ginny had done. Harry’s blood began to boil as he tried to maintain his composure, knowing that work was not the place to confront Ron.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Ron crowded in on him, making the most of his height and bulk. The elevator door closed. "You went to my _wife_?"

Harry straightened his back and leaned towards Ron, refusing to back down to Ron’s larger stature. He breathed in, taking a good gulp of air and channelling his anger. "Excuse me?"

"You went to Hermione to complain about me?" Ron yelled in his face. "What are we, twelve?"

Harry laughed and put his hand against Ron’s chest, pushing him slightly back, just enough to regain an arm’s length of personal space. "Oh, you don’t like someone going behind your back, eh? That’s rich."

Ron flapped his arms, his face reddening. Harry waved his hand to stop the elevator before someone came on and saw their confrontation. "Mates don’t go to their mates’ wives behind their effing backs! There’s a code!"

Harry scowled and shoved his finger into Ron’s chest, this time pushing hard and walking him back until his back hit the wall of the elevator. "I didn’t go to your wife, you arse. Your sister did." He pushed him again for good measure. "She went crying to Hermione to get her to talk reason into _me_ , if you can believe it." Ron blinked, clearly caught off guard. Harry lifted his chin. "Yeah, that’s right. Only she didn’t bother telling your wife what the two of you did _to me_ , did she? No, she just cried about how unfair I was being because I split up with her. So _your wife_ invited me out to dinner to give _me_ shit."

Ron deflated somewhat. "She did?"

"Yeah, she did. And, not that I had anything to hide, but it was only after I’d said how surprised I was that, after what you’d done, she was siding with the two of you that I realised she didn’t know. And it was only then, after Hermione did what she does best, that she pried that gem out of me."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, so go give your little sister shit, not me."

Ron put his hands up in the air in defeat. "I didn’t know."

"Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know. And a lot you presume to know. That’s a common theme with you, isn’t it?" Harry pressed in further. "And don’t you _ever_ approach me at work like this again. When we need to talk, we’ll talk outside. I will _not_ have my position here fucked over by you, like you did with my personal life."

"Harry –"

"Shut." He poked Ron’s chest, though he’d have preferred to punch him. "The fuck." Poke. "Up." Poke. "We _will_ talk, you and I, but it won’t be here, where we’re both _supposed_ to be professionals."

"I –"

"This isn’t over, not by a long shot. We will have words, and you’d best be able to explain yourself, because right now I can’t stand the sight of you." Ron sputtered but Harry just looked at him in disgust. "You’re lucky I don’t have you reprimanded for what you just did." 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Don’t fucking push me, Weasley." He let a bit of his magic escape, charging the air in the enclosed space. Ron’s eyes widened only slightly, but Harry caught it. "When we’re at work, I _am_ your superior. Don’t ever forget that."

He waved him arm to release the elevator, then stepped back to stand as far away from Ron as he could manage, staring straight ahead until the elevator door opened and he got out. He couldn’t get away from him fast enough.


	15. Chapter 15

After getting the update from Mac – no change in the situation at the house in Romford – Harry marched out of the Ministry, needing to walk off the anger still coiling in his gut before he Apparated anywhere. How _dare_ Ron corner Harry like that, as though _he_ were the wronged party! _Fuck_ , Harry wanted to punch something. After a few blocks, he stopped clenching his fists and slowed to a normal pace. Taking a few deep breaths for good measure, he felt calm enough to Apparate.

Mac had been right: the wards were strong. But there didn’t seem to be any complicated spells at work – just your run of the mill wards to keep intruders out and to warn of any breach. Harry was able to first ascertain no one was present, then set his own concealed alarm around the property without disturbing the existing wards. He added to that a handy little tracker spell that would attach itself surreptitiously to anyone crossing the perimeter of his alarm spell. Satisfied with his work, and with nothing else to do but wait, he returned to the hotel to get some work done.

He gave it up as a lost cause about an hour later. His mind kept going back to his conversation with Ron and he quickly got himself worked up all over again. He could have gone to the office to nudge along some of his other cases, but he didn’t want to risk running into Ron again, not while he was this angry. He opted instead to return home, knowing that, even if she hadn’t moved out yet, Ginny would be at work.

When he arrived, he walked through the place, noting missing items here and there – Ginny’s things that had, for a time, become a part of their collective things. On the surface, it appeared that she’d taken him at his word and had removed all of her belongings. But, recalling his conversation with Draco the evening before, he thought about how she might try to manipulate the situation. He cast a few spells to detect anything belonging to her and, sure enough, several items he knew to be important to her were tucked away in different places throughout the house.

Not that he wanted to think of Ginny as manipulative, but Harry acknowledged the logic in Draco’s assessment of her. She may have legitimately missed packing those items, but it did strike Harry as odd that she’d only left behind things she would most certainly want to take with her. And it didn’t escape his notice that they weren’t placed in the most intuitive places, but rather in places out of sight, where Harry wouldn’t see them right away.

He summoned all of her remaining things and placed them in a box. Not sure of where she was staying, and not sure if she’d even told her parents yet, he didn’t want to send the box on to the Burrow. Likewise, he didn’t think it appropriate to send it by owl, potentially raising questions when a box of her own things got delivered to her wherever she happened to be at the time. Instead, he scribbled out a note to her.

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _I’m back home now and noticed that you left some of your things behind. I’ve gathered them in a box for you. If I recall correctly, your schedule has you out of town until the day after tomorrow. You can drop by that evening to collect the box (Floo and wards remain open to you) or, if you’d prefer, I can send it along to the Burrow or wherever you will be staying._
> 
> _I’ll wait for your reply – Harry._

  
That done, Harry cleaned up a bit, had a late lunch and gathered a few more things to take back to the hotel. Ginny’s reply came just as he’d finished packing his bag.  
  


> _Harry,_
> 
> _I must have missed them in my rush to pack. I’ll come by in two days, around 7pm._
> 
> _G._

  
He rolled his eyes at the jibe and tossed the note on top of the box. He marked it with her name and left it near the fireplace, in case she decided to come by earlier. Then he set monitoring spells on the house, picked up his bag, and Apparated back to the hotel room.

The rest of the day was more productive and by five o’clock, he figured the way would be clear for him to return to his office to collect his other files. He reasoned that he’d get far more work done at the hotel – at least for a few more days – where he didn’t need to come into contact with Ron again. He needed to focus and be ready to respond the moment his tracking spell was activated.

An hour or so after he’d picked up his files at the Ministry – with no unfortunate run-ins, thank Merlin – Harry had just set aside his work for the day and was contemplating food – some shepherd’s pie and a pint wouldn’t go amiss – when a loud _crack_ interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh," Draco said. "Sorry for interrupting."

"Hey." Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. He was pleased for the company. Working out of the hotel had its advantages – privacy and no interruptions topping the list – but there was something to be said for having human contact. And, well, it was Draco. He quickly dismissed that train of thought, not willing to delve into his own motivations. "No worries. I’ve just finished." He nodded towards the files he’d just shoved aside.

"I see." Draco looked from the files back to Harry, fidgeting where he stood. "I thought you’d have returned home by now."

Harry ran his hand over the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well I heard what you said and did a sweep of the house." Draco raised his brows, an _’Oh, really?’_ hanging silently between them. Harry nodded. "She’d left a handful of things tucked away in different places."

Draco snorted. "Ah, the perfect excuse to come back, again and again, opening the door for her to appeal to your senses ... or whatever."

"Yeah, so I packed up all her things in a box and sent her an owl to come get it. She’s out of town right now, so she should drop by in a couple of days, but ... well, I think I’ll just stay here until she’s taken her stuff."

Draco smirked. "You know, I think I underestimated you."

Harry grinned in response. "People always do."

"Indeed," Draco said. After a few beats of silence, he said, "Okay, I’ll get out of your hair, then. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just –"

"No, I don’t mind. Stick around for a bit."

Draco hesitated before glancing back at the files. "Oh, do you have an update on the case?"

"Not really, no." He ran his hands through his hair, a habit he had when his impatience got the better of him. "I went by the house and set some tracking and monitoring spells for now. I didn’t want to risk tripping their wards or otherwise alerting them to my presence, and the fact that we’d traced their transmissions, so I didn’t go inside. Now it’s just wait and see."

"Oh." Draco gave him a curious look. "I’m fine going back home. You don’t need to –"

"No, it’s fine. I’d like the company, actually."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Harry knew it was foolish, that he was playing with fire. He was working on Draco’s case. He needed to keep professional distance. But – despite their past and all the baggage that came with it – he’d quickly become used to Draco’s company. And – discounting the fact that his emotions had been in a constant state of upheaval since he’d come back into Harry’s life – on the most part, Harry had enjoyed spending time with Draco over the past week.

Draco gave a tentative smile. "Alright then." He went to the counter. "Tea?"

"Maybe later." Throwing caution to the wind, Harry said, "I think I’d rather have a beer right now, if you’re up for it."

"Oh. Um, okay. Sure. Did you want to go downstairs?"

Harry shook his head and got up. "Not really. I picked some up on the way over." He pulled two out of the fridge and – noting that they weren’t quite cold enough – he popped the tops, cast a chilling spell on them and passed one to Draco. "Here’s to the end of a complete train wreck of a day." He clinked his bottle against Draco’s and took a long pull, acutely aware of Draco’s eyes on him. "Ah, that’s good."

Draco sipped his in his usual, far more refined way. "So. Bad day?"

Harry took another sip, savouring the cool slide of it down his throat. Fuck, but he needed this. "Ron’s back." He didn’t elaborate.

"Ah. I take it you confronted him?"

Harry laughed and took another sip. "Nope. _He_ confronted _me_ , if you can believe it." He finished his beer in near-record time and got up for another. 

Draco raised his brow and watched him exchange his empty bottle for a fresh one. "I’m not sure I heard that correctly. Weasley confronted you about what, exactly?" He watched as Harry opened, chilled and drank from his second beer. "No, wait. Don’t tell me. He accused you of seeing me behind his sister’s back?"

Harry choked a little on his beer. Draco sniggered as Harry coughed and spluttered until he got himself under control and could breathe again. "Shit, I hadn’t thought about that possibility." Draco rolled his eyes. "No, it was nothing like that. He just gave me shit for going to Hermione."

"Ah. Well, there’s something to be said for turning things around. Accuse the other person of wrongdoing so you can deflect from your own misdeeds."

Harry put his bottle on the table and sat down. "Yeah, well, I was having none of that."

"That’s good to hear."

"Yeah, he accosted me in an elevator, crowded me into the corner and loomed over me."

"Menacingly, no doubt." Contempt oozed from his words.

Harry snorted. "Well, he tried. Anyway, I told him to go give Ginny shit instead, since she’s the one that went to his wife."

Draco grinned as he sipped his beer. "And I’m sure you were perfectly calm, cool and polite as you were doing this?"

Harry coughed. "Well, no. I was pissed off actually." Draco smirked. "But!" Harry held his beer aloft. "I did not punch him in the face."

Draco’s face fell. "Pity."

Harry shrugged. "I was at work. I didn’t fancy getting sacked over that."

"Fair enough."

"I did, however, tell him that we’d talk, but the office wasn’t the place to do it."

"Hmm." Draco watched Harry over his bottle as he took a long draw. "So that was it?"

Harry’s face flushed as he remembered his threat to Ron. "Er, not exactly."

Draco sat forward, curiosity clearly piqued. "Do tell."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Draco’s eyes. "Well, I sort of told him not to push me, that he was lucky I wasn’t going to report him, and that he should rememberImhissuperiorofficer." He coughed.

Draco burst out laughing. "You didn’t!"

Warmth ran up Harry’s neck to his face and he groaned. "I did."

"That’s fucking brilliant!" Draco clinked their bottles and finished off his beer, chuckling all the while. "Oh, I wish I had been there!"

Harry, embarrassed but pleased that Draco wasn’t mocking him for pulling rank, let his head flop onto his arms. "I can’t believe I said that," he mumbled into the table.

Draco got himself another beer. "I can’t believe you didn’t deck him," he countered. "He got off lucky, if you ask me."

Harry lifted his head. "You think so?"

"Fuck, yeah." He sat down and his amusement turned into a scowl. "And don’t you dare apologise to him. Or let him off the hook."

Harry slid his bottle from hand to hand, recalling the images in the Pensieve. "No chance of that." He might feel like a bit of a tit for pulling rank, but there was no way in hell he was letting Ron or Ginny off the hook for what they’d done. "I won’t be forgetting that memory you showed me anytime soon."

Draco slammed his bottle onto the table. "The Pensieve!" And he got up.

"What?" Harry scrambled to keep up with his thought process as he watched Draco cross the room. 

Soon enough, Draco had the Pensieve set up on the table and was waving his hands at Harry. "Go on, then. I want to see what happened." Ah, that was what he meant. Harry chuckled as Draco looked positively set to burst with glee. And, really, how could Harry resist that?

"Alright," he said, pulling out his wand. "But I feel a bit of an idiot."

"Oh, never mind that." Draco’s eyes twinkled now. "I have got to see this."

Bemused, Harry drew the strand of memory from his temple and placed it into the basin. "There you go. Have at it."

"Oh, no," Draco said, grabbing onto Harry’s arm. "You’re coming with me!"

And Harry felt himself fall into the elevator just as the door was about to close. Sure enough, Ron’s arm came out to stop the doors closing. As Harry watched, Ron crowded him into the corner. At the time, he’d been too busy controlling his own anger to register just how aggressive Ron had been. 

"He’s got balls; I’ll give him that," Draco said.

And then Harry turned it around on him, marching him back against the opposite wall, getting in his face. He felt Draco shudder beside him and turned to see his eyes glazed over in a familiar look that went right to Harry’s groin. _Fuck._ Draco hadn’t released his arm and he was now gripping it tighter than ever as he watched Harry dress down his friend. Harry was more interested in Draco’s reaction than reliving the memory himself. In fact, watching Draco get turned on was having pretty much the same effect on Harry. He bit his lip to hold back a moan.

He looked away from Draco just as his memory self said, "When we’re at work, I _am_ your superior. Don’t ever forget that." Harry put his hand up to his face, embarrassment overwhelming him again, as they were drawn out of the Pensieve.

Draco released his arm and reached for his beer. Harry watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he drank the rest of it down, avoiding eye contact with Harry. Harry’s body thrummed with desire, but before he did something incredibly stupid, he marched over to the fridge and took out two more beers. Not that his judgement around Draco would be any better with more alcohol, but he did need to calm his racing heart. This time, when he opened the bottle, he took a small sip. Enough to keep his hands and mouth occupied so they wouldn’t take it upon themselves to act on whatever his cock was thinking. Because it had perked up and Harry’s brain was struggling to focus.

After a few silent, awkward moments, Harry chanced looking at something besides the label on his beer. He was relieved to see that Draco had recovered his composure, but then his mind went back to the memory itself. "So I didn’t sound like too big an arse?"

Draco turned his head sharply and gave Harry a stern look. "Are you kidding? He deserved all that and more. I trust you plan on dishing out more like that when next you see him."

Harry’s face broke into a wide smile, embarrassment fading. "Definitely."

Draco nodded, seemingly satisfied with Harry’s response. Harry’s stomach – now no longer tense with desire – chose that moment to grumble loudly and Draco sniggered. "Hungry?"

"Er, yeah, I am. I was about to grab some supper when you arrived."

"But you didn’t want to be rude and instead invited me to stay." He rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"Actually," Harry said, holding Draco’s gaze, "I was rather pleased that you popped in and selfishly invited you to keep me company. Fortunately, you took pity on me and stayed."

"Oh, well then." Draco stood up, his cheeks turning pink. "In that case, give me a minute." He pulled out his wand. "I’ll be right back."

With a _crack_ he was gone. A few minutes later, he returned, placing a bag on the table. He waved his wand to clear away Harry’s files, levitating them over to a smaller table. He then withdrew a tray from the bag, put it in the centre of the table and removed the cover with a flourish to reveal a platter laden with steaming food fit for a king. "Dinner is served." Another flick of his wand and a plate, cutlery and napkin appeared in front of Harry.

Harry blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. He’d been sitting in a modest hotel room having a beer with his ex one minute, having contemplated shepherd’s pie not long ago, and the next minute he was being served a gourmet meal, courtesy of the same ex. "You brought me dinner?"

Draco shrugged. "Mother sent over a bloody feast for me – and another dozen guests, I’d wager – and I had leftovers. Seemed like a good idea." 

Harry was having difficulty picturing Narcissa bustling around the kitchen like Molly. "Your mother sent you food?"

He rolled his eyes. "After we had supper last night, she insisted. Said something about me being far too pale and questioned if I was eating properly." Harry quietly agreed with Narcissa’s assessment and was pleased she’d done that for Draco, even though he’d not told her what was going on. "So tonight one of the house elves showed up with food to last me a week." 

Ah, house elves made much more sense than Narcissa in a kitchen. "Remind me to thank her next time I see her."

Draco raised a brow in response. Harry wasn’t sure why he’d said that – it’s not like he’d have occasion to see Narcissa – but he meant it. The food smelled incredible. And just when he was getting over the fact that Draco had brought him supper, he surprised Harry by pulling a bottle of Merlot from his robes. "And, since this is _not_ the sort of meal one consumes with a beer, I took the liberty of selecting a wine to go with it." Then he glared at Harry as though daring him to argue.

Harry held up his hands in defeat. "Far be it for me to challenge your culinary prowess."

Draco nodded. "Too right you are, Potter." He opened the bottle, conjured a couple of wine glasses, and poured them each a generous serving. He handed Harry one and raised his own. "To ending the day on a better note than it began."

Harry raised his glass to meet Draco’s. "I’ll drink to that." He sipped the wine, allowing the rich flavour to settle on his tongue for a bit before swallowing with a soft moan. "That’s really good."

Draco cleared his throat. "I nicked it from the Manor cellar a while back. Thought you could use a decent vintage after the day you’ve had." Before Harry could react, Draco motioned to the food. "Go on then."

Harry put down his glass and helped himself to a good helping of everything – veal, some fancy potato florette things, and a colourful mix of fancy looking vegetables. When he noticed Draco hadn’t taken any – or conjured a plate for himself – he asked, "Aren’t you going to join me?"

Draco raised his glass. "I’m good. I’ve already eaten." At Harry’s dubious look, he motioned to the bag, which still had what looked like a box inside. "But I’ll not say no to a second helping of the torte once you get to it."

Harry shrugged and tucked in. "Suit yourself." When the veal practically melted in his mouth, his eyes shut to better savour the flavour and he let out a soft moan. Draco coughed. "Sorry," Harry said, blinking open his eyes and catching an amused grin on Draco’s face. "It’s just that this ... well, it’s delicious. Like ... really amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had veal this good before."

Draco smiled rather smugly. "Glad you’re enjoying it."

"So, since you’re not eating, tell me what you’ve been up to."

He shrugged. "I just went to work and –"

"No, I mean what you’ve been doing for the past five years. What made you decide to make a career of potions? How did you get into the business after school?"

Draco stiffened and looked warily at him. "Why?"

Harry had a mouthful of food, so he put down his fork and held up his hand as he swallowed. "I’m off duty. This isn’t Auror me asking, it’s just me, a friend, asking." 

Draco’s eyes widened. "Friend?"

"We used to be friends, right?"

Draco relaxed but his expression remained cool. "We haven’t been that for a long time."

Harry didn’t resume eating. Instead, he took a sip of wine and studied Draco. "No, we haven’t. But ..."

"But what?" Draco asked, his voice carrying both accusation and hope.

"But I’d like to think that maybe ... well, maybe we can get past this and –" He studied his glass, not sure how to say what he was thinking.

"And?"

"We’ve both said things we didn’t mean, yeah?" Draco nodded. "And we both, apparently, still have feelings for each other."

Draco shook his head. "No, Harry, that’s not why I told you about ... why I showed you ... I don’t –"

Harry stopped him there. "I didn’t mean to suggest anything more. I just meant that, if we don’t _actually_ hate each other, and we enjoy each other’s company ..."

Draco snorted. "Oh, yes, we’ve been getting on _famously_."

Harry grinned. "Fair enough. But we are right now."

Draco’s lip twitched and he tried to hide it behind his glass. "Perhaps."

"So who’s to say we can’t be friends?"

"But you’re the Auror looking into my case."

"True. But eventually I won’t be."

"I don’t know."

Harry decided not to push the issue. "Either way, I was only asking out of curiosity. Not for work. Not for any official record. Not to inform the Ministry or anyone working there. I’d just like to know. Do you like what you do? Are you glad you made the choices you did? Is your life living up to your expectations?"

Draco seemed to take him at his word and he fully relaxed. "Okay, okay. I believe you."

Harry smiled and resumed eating.

"Where to start? After we ... well, after that summer, I opted not to return to Hogwarts, but you already knew that, I’m sure. I studied for my NEWTs from home and scheduled my exams during the first session made available that winter. I did very well – nothing below an E – but wasn’t able to get work for some time. As you can imagine, not many people were pleased with the idea of hiring a former Death Eater." All this was said barely taking a breath. 

He took a healthy sip of his wine before continuing. "Anyway, eventually I stumbled into an apothecary just outside of Wiltshire and the proprietor took me on as an apprentice." He smiled and Harry could practically feel his relief. "He’d seen my results – NEWT grades are routinely posted to hiring boards as a matter of course – and didn’t give a toss about my family’s reputation. He was quite up front about it, as was I. He said that he believed everyone deserves a second chance, and that he knew more than a little bit about following in his father’s misguided footsteps – not that he ever explained that in detail. But whatever his past, he wouldn’t hold me accountable for Lucius’ bad choices. My own, yes, so he hired me under strict conditions. I agreed and that was that. He never rubbed my nose in things or reminded me of my past. I worked diligently and relentlessly and learned everything I could from him. In return, he was dedicated to my education and was never hesitant to dole out praise or criticism, as warranted."

Harry smiled. "He sounds like a great guy."

"He was."

"Was?"

Draco gave a wistful smile. "He passed a couple of years ago. That’s when I moved to London. Thanks to my work with Bernard, I’d gained a solid reputation for myself – a damn sight better than the one I’d had before – and was able to sell some of my potions to cover my costs, and before long I’d found steady work that still affords me the time to brew my own potions on the side."

Harry finished his food and put down his fork. "From what I’ve heard, your potions are top notch. In demand all over Europe."

Draco’s face lit up. "They are, though I’m surprised you’d heard about that."

Harry shrugged and took another sip of the wine. "We’ve had some illegal potions cases over the years. Your name’s come up a number of times – always related to quality product. You’ve made quite a name for yourself."

"I’ve worked hard."

Harry smiled. "Well, it’s paid off." He finished his glass and Draco topped up their glasses with the last of the bottle. Harry lifted his glass in thanks and added, "So I take it you enjoy your work?"

Draco sipped from his own wine, nodded and smiled again. Harry had missed that smile, the one that lit up his eyes along with the rest of his face. The one Harry had only ever seen from him a couple of times when they’d been at school together, during moments he’d watched Draco with his friends. The one that had been missing in their sixth year, despite Harry’s near obsession with watching his every move. The one that he hadn’t seen again until after the war. The one he’d finally seen directed at him during their short time together. And now, here it was again, and Harry’s chest ached at the lost moments from the past five years.

"I do. I’d always been good at potions, but I hadn’t really developed a passion for it until I started working with Bernard. I remember him talking about it as if it were an art form. Potions are powerful and beautiful – magical, yes, but so much more. They give the creator the ability to heal, to harm, to exact pain or pleasure, to save or end life, and so much more." His eyes lit up and his voice became energised as he continued. "Someone brewing a potion can simply replicate what others have done before them – it’s a matter of following instructions, which any competent witch or wizard can do – or they can put a little of themselves into what they create, transcending the mere chemistry and base magic to make something more."

Harry grinned at his enthusiasm, but before he could say anything, Draco scowled. "What?"

Harry grinned wider. "You really love what you do, don’t you?" Draco nodded. "It shows." He clinked his glass against Draco’s. "It looks good on you."

Draco’s cheeks turned pink and his lips twitched. "Thank you. And I do love my work."

"You know," Harry said, "this Bernard sounds a lot like Snape." Draco frowned. "I mean how he was about potions. Remember our first class? He went on about how potions were the most powerful of magic, that you could even put a stopper in death."

"You remember that?" Draco looked at him curiously. "I’m surprised you remember anything from his classes."

Harry snorted. "I remember pretty much everything." At Draco’s dubious look, he added, "Every annoying, frustrating and embarrassing part."

Draco laughed. "Those moments got me through the rest of my classes, you know." Harry glared. "It was quite comforting to have at least _someone_ on staff that didn’t fawn all over the Boy Who Lived."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Malfoy." Draco continued to do just that. "So glad my humiliation was able to bring such joy."

"Good times." He lifted his glass and took a long sip. "Good times."

"Yeah, well ... Snape may have been great with potions, and I might have been able to learn a lot from him, but his inability to see me as anything but my father – and treat me accordingly – meant I was always on guard around him. And for someone who’d never even known magic was real before Hogwarts, it wasn’t exactly the best way to learn."

"No doubt." He’d stopped laughing now, but a wistful grin remained. "What was the deal with him and your father? You never said."

Harry shrugged. "Snape was in love with my mother, since they’d been kids, even before Hogwarts." Draco’s mouth fell open. "And my dad was a bit of a dick to him in school. He and my godfather Sirius both. Snape despised them both, but that special, down to the core hatred, he reserved for the man that was to marry Lily. Then they had me and Voldemort killed my parents a year later. Snape had tried to spare my mother, but ..."

Draco’s face had transformed from curiosity to surprise to disbelief. "Snape tried to save her?"

Harry nodded. "It’s a long story, but the condensed version is that Snape was the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy but he hadn’t known it was about me. Once he knew it was Lily’s baby that was the subject, he begged Voldemort not to kill my mum. He was fine with him killing my dad and me, but he wanted my mother spared."

"Holy shit."

"Mmm. But Voldemort killed her too. She died to save me, and – between that and my being James Potter’s son – Snape could never forgive me for that. Or himself, for that matter."

"So that’s why he switched sides, because Voldemort killed your mother?"

Harry nodded. "But when he saw me – looking very much like my dad – he directed that hatred of my dad to the one who looked just like him."

"You."

Harry nodded. "Me."

"That explains so much."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought, too."

Draco swirled the wine in his glass and stared at it. "So that’s why you were suddenly good at potions in sixth year? Because Snape was no longer your teacher?"

"Oh, hell no." Harry snorted. "I’m alright at potions now – good enough to get me through Auror training – but that’s the extent of it." At Draco’s raised brow, he said, "I’ll let you in on my secret from sixth year some other time."

Draco looked poised to argue, but relented. "I’ll hold you to that."

Harry drained the last of his wine. "So ... you said something about a torte?"

Draco smiled and finished his own wine. "I did indeed." He removed a box from the bag he’d brought. "Why don’t you cut a couple of pieces for us while I make some tea?"

They ate their cake in companionable silence and when they were done, Harry said, "That may have been the best meal I’ve ever had. Thanks." 

"You’re welcome." He watched Harry as he sipped his tea. "But while I’ll agree that this was a very good meal, if this was the best you’ve ever had, I’d say that clearly you’ve missed out on some of the finer things in life."

"Apparently I have. Who knew?"

Draco frowned. "You’re a wealthy man, Harry. You do know this, right?"

Harry nodded, though even now he found that fact rather uncomfortable.

His discomfort must have shown because Draco chuckled. "You can afford to expand your horizons, try more things." Harry nodded again. "There’s a whole world of culinary experiences just waiting for you."

Harry thought about a world of other experiences that might also await him. "Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime."

Draco smiled around his cup as he sipped his tea. "Maybe I will."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the L-O-N-G delay between the last post and this one. Went on a trip and have been busy with spring cleaning and work and Glompfest. I do hope to get back to once-a-week posting until I'm done, but it might take a wee bit longer. But it will definitely be done soon. We're getting close to wrapping it up, and much of the end is already written. So, thanks for your patience and now, part 16 - enjoy!

Harry didn’t have work the next day, and took advantage of the break to get some shopping done. With the unseasonably nice weather, he took a walk around the lake in Beddington Park in Muggle Sutton to clear his head. He’d found he liked the grounds and the peace that fell over him when he escaped the surrounding city. 

Sat on a bench breathing in the crisp, fresh air, Harry found himself pleased with how things had gone the night before with Draco. It felt like old times, when they were working on the rebuild of Hogwarts and getting to know each other, only now it was without the cloud of the war hanging over them. It also helped to have the maturity that came from years of growing up and figuring out who they were as individuals rather than as pawns on opposing sides of a war.

He tried to appreciate the friendship as it had been, before things had changed, but what had grown out of it was too intertwined with everything else that he couldn't stop himself reliving some of their more intimate moments. It didn’t help that he still felt drawn to the man, and he knew the feeling was mutual. Though sober Draco was determined to resist the pull, given what he’d said the other night when Harry’d found him drunk, it was clear his feelings went far deeper than he’d ever admit when he wasn’t under the influence.

It had been a few weeks after their first somewhat fumbling encounter at Hogwarts. They’d been nearly inseparable but hadn’t yet done much more than they had done that day. A bit of groping here and there, a few messy, fumbling blow jobs that were amazing nevertheless, and an awful lot of kissing. But, by some unspoken agreement, they hadn’t gone any further. Neither of them wanted to ruin that tentative whatever-it-was they’d had, he supposed, so they hadn’t pushed. But Harry _wanted_. Wanted Draco so badly he could taste it. Taste him on his tongue even hours after they’d parted.

But that all changed after that huge blow-out with Ron at the pub. Had he known, even then? Harry couldn’t even remember the details of their fight, or how it had got so out of control, but he did remember a mention of Draco. Ron hadn’t been part of the rebuilding effort at Hogwarts – hadn’t wanted to return to the place where Fred had died – and so he hadn’t witnessed all the changes in Draco. Not that he would have, even if he’d been there. And he absolutely couldn’t understand Harry’s friendship with him.

For Harry’s part, he’d drifted away from the Weasleys. Not that he’d intended for it to happen, but their all-encompassing grief had been too much for him. He missed Fred, of course, but he missed Lupin as well. And Tonks and Dumbledore and Sirius and Colin and all the others that had died. He tried not to feel guilty – he’d finally accepted that it wasn’t all his fault, though some days were harder than others – but the weight on him whenever he went to the Burrow was more than he could take. So he’d withdrawn from them, bit by bit, until he only saw them when they’d made specific plans, usually on some occasion or other. 

And then there’d been Draco, someone who’d previously blamed Harry for his father’s predicament, but who’d come around. Someone that didn’t look at him with pain behind his eyes, right down to his soul. Somehow they’d both ended up in the same place, at the same time, channelling their anger, not at each other as they’d done in the past, but at the challenge before them, Harry to rebuild the only place he’d ever thought of as home, and Draco to assuage his guilt over letting Death Eaters into the school that had welcomed him. It had been awkward at first, quiet during their breaks, but eventually, slowly, they’d both started to talk. And as time went on, small talk had turned to _real_ talk, _meaningful_ discussions about life – past, present and future. And Harry’d found himself wondering what might have been, had Malfoy not been such a git by insulting Hagrid and Ron, and had Harry taken his hand in friendship.

He hadn’t said any of that to Ron, but he had said that they got on quite well now. That Malfoy had changed. That he wasn’t so bad after all. But Ron was having none of that. So they’d stopped talking about the rebuild efforts at the school in favour of nothing conversations that were surface at best and superfluous at worst. Which had only served to draw Harry closer to Draco.

A couple of days after their trip to Wales, Harry’d left Draco at his flat to go meet Ron at his latest favourite pub. He’d still been thinking about their trip, and how light and free it’d made him feel to just be himself and be with Draco, when he’d walked in. The minute Ron had opened his mouth, Harry’s good mood had vanished. He’d gone on about Ginny and the family and Draco’s family, and what the fuck was Harry doing, and on and on. Harry’d tuned him out even then, sick to death of the judgment in his tone and the mounting pressure he’d felt weighing on his chest. To this day, he couldn’t remember what either of them had said, but Harry’d thrown down enough money to cover both their meals and had stormed out.

When he’d banged on Draco’s door, he’d been close to putting his fist through it. 

Draco answered, looking concerned. "I thought you’d be gone for hours."

"Yeah, well, you try spending hours with him!" Harry marched inside, leaving Draco to close the door behind him. He wanted to scream. 

"No thanks," Draco replied. "But he’s your best mate, Harry. What happened?"

Harry looked at Draco, at the concern in his eyes. This was a man Ron didn’t know, couldn’t know, wouldn’t _let_ himself know. "It doesn’t matter," he said, and was surprised that he meant it. Ron didn’t know him but Harry did. He pulled Draco in for a deep, soul-searching kiss. He poured everything he felt into it and by the time they parted, they were both breathless and shell-shocked by the ferocity of it.

"Wow." Draco’s glazed eyes twinkled and his fingers trailed over his lips. "You should fight with Ron more often."

"You’re a good man, Draco."

He laughed at that. "I think we both know that’s not true."

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and stared deeply into his eyes. "It is." He pressed soft lips to Draco’s. "And I’m going to spend as long as it takes to convince you of that."

When Harry pressed his tongue past welcoming lips, Draco melted into his arms with a soft moan. Harry drew him nearer and deepened the kiss, pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into his exploration, desperate to map every inch of the other man with his hands and mouth. Draco met him, lick for lick and touch for touch. They devoured each other until, when they separated, they were both out of breath, hearts racing.

Harry stared into glassy, grey eyes, pupils blown so wide they were nearly black. "Want you so badly," he said. Draco smiled and nodded, taking Harry’s hand in his own and pulling him back towards the bed. Harry’s heart, already beating rapidly, sped up, nearly threatening to break free of his chest. "You sure?"

Draco nodded again. "I’ve wanted this since the first time we kissed."

"Mm," Harry groaned. "Me too."

Draco’s smile lit up the room as he grabbed Harry’s shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, on top of him. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Harry kissed him again, more urgently this time, as he fumbled with his shirt, trying to remove it, until Draco took pity on him and pulled it the rest of the way off. Fortunately, Harry didn’t have the same trouble with Draco’s shirt, even if his hands shook as he undid all the buttons – why were there so many and why couldn’t he wear a perfectly good t-shirt like Harry? – and in short order, Draco was sitting up so that Harry could pull the shirt off completely. As Draco lay back down, Harry ran fingers lightly over the barely-there scars that decorated his chest. He’d apologised before, but somehow, with what they were about to do, it was important that Draco know just how horribly he felt, how he wished he could turn back time so that it’d never happened.

As he was about to say ... something, Draco’s fingers tightened on his chin and he turned Harry roughly to face him. "Don’t. You don’t need to say a word."

"But –"

"Don’t you think I know how you feel? How sorry you are?" His fierce gaze pierced Harry’s eyes. "You’ve apologised. I’ve apologised. We’ve moved on."

"I know, but –"

"Potter, if you aren’t inside me very soon, I may implode, so if you please, enough with the guilt and fuck me already."

Harry couldn’t help the chuckle from escaping his lips. "Yes, sir."

"Hmm." A familiar grin – one that rarely boded well for Harry – spread over Draco’s face at his words. "I like the sound of that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You would."

Draco reached behind Harry’s head and drew him in for another soul-searching kiss and Harry forgot all about everything else.

A crowd of young boys yelling and kicking around a football brought Harry back to the present. Shaking off the memories, he slowly made his way back to the hotel. As he looked around the room, he longed to be back home. Sure, Grimmauld held memories, good and bad, and a lot with Ginny, but it was home. He’d felt off-kilter ever since taking on Draco’s case, and being in this state of limbo only exacerbated the situation. Hopefully Ginny would pick up the rest of her things soon so he could close his wards to her and move on with his life.

What that meant, how he’d move on, he had no way of knowing. He suspected – no matter how they both felt about each other – that his and Draco’s time had passed. He was confident that they could be friends, genuine friends, and move on from there, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he was in limbo there too. After all, they hadn’t had their closure at the time – just a bombshell followed by nothing – and, no matter that they seemed to be moving forward, that loose end remained. Harry’s instincts told him that would eat away at him if they didn’t at least talk about things. When they were both sober.

But, like everything else, it would have to wait. He couldn’t jeopardise the case by bringing more feelings into the mix than already hovered on the periphery.

As he was putting away his purchases, a tap came on the window. Harry opened it and Pig flew in, did a circuit of the room, and plopped himself onto the table. Harry gave the hyper little thing a bit of bread and let him rest while he read the letter from Ron.

> Harry,  
> I tried Floo-calling but apparently you’ve cut me off. What the hell? We should talk. I’m not one for writing stuff down, so why don’t you come over tonight for dinner? We can order in.  
> ~ Ron

Harry laughed, but without humour. Obviously Ron wanted both home turf and the protection of Hermione. And if Gin got back early, no doubt it would be all hands on deck. No thanks. He scribbled out a reply, ignoring the Floo question and not bothering to state the obvious: he had no desire for Ron to enter his home, by Floo or any other means. And very soon, that would apply to Ginny as well.

> Ron,  
> We can meet at the usual pub, say 8 o’clock. Don’t bring anyone. This is between the two of us.  
> ~ Harry

When Pig returned an hour later with Ron’s reply, he collapsed onto the table. Harry gave him a drink of water and some more bread, but he just stared blankly at both, content to lie there unmoving.

> Fine. See you at eight.

Harry read Ron’s unspoken words that rang loudly and clearly through the emptiness of the page. He had no doubt he’d been right, and that Ron had planned on hiding behind his wife, and possibly his sister. Or, at the very least, thought Harry’s reaction would be softened in their presence. Well, Harry was done playing games. He was sick to death of people trying to manipulate him, particularly his supposed friends.

***

Late in the afternoon, just as he’d sat down with the Prophet’s sports section, Harry received an alert – someone was attempting to breach the wards at Draco’s flat. He put down the paper and sent a quick message through the coin to Draco. _Attempted breach at your flat. Where are you?_

_At the lab. I can meet you there._

_No. Stay where you are. I’ll be in touch._

He Apparated to Draco’s flat, but by the time he got there, he knew he was too late. The pressure from the alert had eased even before he’d left the hotel, and there was no sign of anyone at or near Draco’s door. A quick few spells confirmed the wards hadn’t been breached. He sent a follow up. _Gone. Didn’t get in this time._

The crack of Apparition caused Harry to reach for his wand.

"Whoa, there. It’s only me," Draco said, hands held up in surrender.

"I thought I said to stay where you were."

Draco glared at him. "And you said they’d gone, _Auror Potter_ , so I came to see for myself."

Harry rolled his eyes and put his wand away. "Oh, fine then."

"So your big, bad Auror wards saved the day?"

Harry didn’t bother to explain precisely which (not exactly Ministry-approved) wards he’d applied, but he did nod. "Apparently so. And," he added with a grin, "I got the magical signature."

"That’s great. Were you able to get a trace on him too?"

"Unfortunately not. The spell activates only when the person crosses the perimeter, and I only placed that inside the flat. Otherwise we’d be alerted every time someone walked past your door."

"Makes sense." He frowned but nodded. "At least we’ll be able to figure out who it was."

"If we have their signature on file," Harry agreed. "Which means I’ll have to go to the office."

"I thought you weren’t working today."

Harry shrugged. "I wasn’t, but then I got the alert."

Draco stared at his door. "It can wait, can’t it? I mean we know who it probably was anyway."

"True." Harry wasn’t so sure. It could have been Rowle, but it also could have been someone working with him. Or it could have been Lucius. "But it won’t take me long anyway. Might as well know what we’re facing."

Draco fidgeted. "Speaking of work, I do need to get back to the lab. I’ve left a potion sitting and I need to keep an eye on the time." He looked torn between returning to work and going inside.

"Whoever it was didn’t get in," Harry assured him.

Draco nodded and lifted his wand in preparation to Apparate, before lowering it and asking, "Do you want to meet for dinner later to talk?"

"Can’t," Harry said, his stomach clenching at the thought. "Meeting Ron."

"Ooh!" Draco grinned and rubbed his hands together maniacally. "Can I come?" He put on a serious face. "Merely as an observer, of course."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Ha, ha. No."

Draco pouted and Harry had to hold back his laughter. "Can we talk afterwards?"

"Sure. I’ll send you a message when I get back." 

"Shall I bring alcohol?"

Harry snorted. "Probably best. I suspect I’ll need some, since I don’t plan on drinking too much before confronting him on his shit. Want to keep on my toes, you know?"

"Consider it done," he said with a salute. "Oh, and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Harry smiled. "No problem. I’ll see you later."

A quick trip to the Ministry confirmed Rowle as the culprit. No surprise there. Harry only hoped the unsuccessful attempt didn’t push him to do more.

***

As eight o’clock approached, Harry’s stomach started to churn. Despite his job, and his ability to regularly deal with confrontation on many fronts, he didn’t like it in his personal life. And Ron had been his best friend since they’d been eleven years old. He’d been his Auror partner too. Harry had trusted him with his life. Still did, despite everything. Even so, he didn’t think he’d ever trust Ron with his secrets again. He’d known what had happened to Harry, how he’d been manipulated and lied to by so many people. By people who thought they’d known better. People who didn’t trust Harry to make his own judgement calls, his own decisions. And he’d known how that had affected Harry, the lasting impact the lies had made on him and the toll they’d taken. And then Ron had gone and done the same damn thing, with no concern for Harry’s feelings. No respect for Harry’s judgement. And Harry didn’t think he could ever forgive him for that.

He entered the pub to find Ron, two pints in front of him, already seated at a table in the back. Harry made his way over and sat down, still unsure as to what exactly he would say. Opting for some liquid courage to start, he took a pull from his pint and threw up a Muffliato. He didn’t fancy their conversation ending up in the Prophet.

"Haven’t seen you in the office for a while," Ron said, as though this was just a regular get-together down the pub.

Harry played along. "Been busy working on a sensitive case," he said, noncommittally.

"Something to do with the ferret?"

Harry resisted punching him in the face. "Right, then. Enough with the small talk, Ron."

Ron’s face reddened and he nodded. "Look, it was a long time ago, and we thought we were doing the right thing."

Harry took another pull and willed himself to remain calm. "Did you now?"

"You know we did, Harry. I mean, come on. Malfoy?"

Harry put down his beer. "That’s hardly the point."

"That’s exactly the point!"

Harry clenched his teeth together. "No, it’s not. The point is that you lied to me."

"We didn’t lie. We just ... well, we didn’t say anything."

"Right. Because that’s so different."

Ron stared into his glass but said nothing. Harry maintained the silence, overcome with competing desires to just leave and never talk to Ron again or scream in his face and pummel him into the ground.

Ron broke the silence with a softly muttered, "Sorry."

"Are you, though?" Harry asked. "Are you sorry about what you did, or just sorry you got caught?" When Ron didn’t answer – because they both already knew the truth – he continued. "Would you ever have told me?" he asked. "No, never mind. Don’t bother to answer that. I know you wouldn’t have and I know that you wouldn’t have spent even a moment feeling guilty about what you did."

"But we saved you."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "From what, exactly? From Draco? From myself?" Ron tried to answer, but Harry didn’t give him the chance. "I, of all people, knew what Draco was capable of. I alone knew he’d been up to something in sixth year. He and I fought from the moment I refused his hand in friendship, and I watched him my whole life. Do you get that? My whole life! If anyone knew him, knew when he was lying, knew when he was up to something, it was me! Who the hell did you and Gin fancy yourselves to be, to think you’d known him better than I did?"

Ron lifted his glass with a shaky hand and took a swig of his pint. "We didn’t know what was going on. You hadn’t told us anything."

"And you didn’t think to maybe, I dunno, ask me? Have a fucking conversation with me?"

Ron looked around the room, clearly worried that, despite the Muffliato, someone might work out that they were arguing. Harry couldn’t give a shit, so long as the subject remained out of the papers. When he looked back at Harry, he shrugged. "Didn’t know how to broach the topic, did I?"

 _Unbelievable_. Harry took another sip. "So let me get this straight: the two of you spied on me, then talked about me behind my back, then approached Draco, also behind my back, then kept it all to yourselves. For five years. You watched me turn into myself, withdraw from people and pour myself into my work, basically a shell of the person I’d been. You watched all this happen, knowing full well what the cause of it was, but never thought – not once – to tell me what you’d done. Or, hell, to even bother to ask me what was wrong. For _five. Fucking. Years._ Have I got that right? Or did I miss something?"

Ron was saved by the appearance of the waitress with two menus. Harry hastily removed the spell, ordered another round and put the menus aside. When she left to get their drinks, Harry raised his brow. "Well?" He swigged back the last of his pint and slammed the glass down on the table before putting the Muffliato back up.

Ron’s eyes didn’t meet Harry’s and he mumbled when he spoke. It was all Harry could do not to shake him. "You got better," he said. "Sure, at first you were all about work, but you’ve come round lately."

"So that makes it okay for you to just make my life decisions for me? You know, like my aunt and uncle did. Then Dumbledore. And lie to me or keep the truth from me, like Snape and Umbridge and countless others. People that you vilified for the way they treated me. Only to turn around and do the same thing."

"But ... it wasn’t the same thing!"

"No?"

Once more the waitress interrupted. When she put the drinks down, Harry asked for ten minutes before they ordered dinner. If he even wanted anything, he felt so sick to his stomach over this whole mess. He took a particularly long pull from his pint and waited.

Ron put the spell back up and looked beseechingly at Harry. "We were just trying to help you. To make sure you weren’t taken advantage of." Harry scoffed. "No, really, Harry. Malfoy had been a right shit to you your entire life."

"Which is why I would have been able to see what he was up to, if it was something nefarious."

"But we didn’t know that. We hardly talked to you."

"And that was _my fault?_ If you’ll recall, I tried to talk to you about him, but you wouldn’t listen. You cut me off and said nothing but disparaging things about him and never even heard what I had to say. And now you have the audacity to tell me we didn’t talk? Well, fuck you, Ron. And Ginny too."

"Harry."

"No, this is bullshit. You, of all people, _knew_ how gutted I was by Dumbledore’s betrayal. I understood his reasoning, but he manipulated me. Lied to me. Kept things from me. But at least he had a higher purpose in all of it. But you?"

"We just wanted what was best for you."

"That’s crap and you know it. If you were doing what was best for _me_ , you’d have told Hermione about it. But you didn’t, did you? She knew nothing about it because you and Gin knew she’d have set you straight. I don’t even know why you did it – to keep me from being friends with Draco, to make sure Ginny and I got back together, to ensure you and I went into the Aurors together? I don’t know. And I don’t care."

"But you weren’t just friends with him."

"No, I wasn’t. And you know what? I was happy. _Really_ happy."

"But Harry –"

"No, Ron. I was genuinely happy and you took that away from me. And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me about it." Harry was suddenly tired. So very tired. "You lied and hid things from me and manipulated my life for five years. You know what? It’s clear to me that you don’t see that what you did was wrong, and I don’t have the energy to fight with you. I’m done. When you’re ready to apologise, send me an owl."

"I said I was sorry."

"And we both know you didn’t mean it. You’re only sorry you got caught. Well, I’m sorry it happened at all. I’ve been sorry for five years."

"I didn’t know."

"And how could you have if you didn’t ask? That’s the whole fucking point, Ron. I’m an adult – I was an adult then, too – and I can make my own decisions."

"I know."

"Do you really? Because I don’t think you do. And I don’t trust you."

"C’mon, Harry." He still didn’t get it. Still didn’t understand what he did was wrong.

Harry drank down the last of his second beer and stood up, bone weary and in desperate need to get away from Ron. "I’m done," he repeated. "Once Gin picks up the last of her things, I’m closing off Grimmauld to the both of you. I’ll work with you if and when I have to, I’ll continue to be professional, and I’ll always have your back, but that’s it. Unless and until you apologise – and mean it – I’ve got nothing else to say to you."

He tossed some money onto the table and apologised to the waitress for not staying for supper as he left. He didn’t bother to look back at Ron, to see his face, to see the mixture of confusion and defiance. He didn’t think he could take it.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry felt marginally better after he took a hot shower to wash away the anger from his conversation with Ron. He swallowed back a good measure of firewhiskey before refilling his glass and sending a message letting Draco know he’d returned. He was halfway through his second glass when Draco arrived.

He eyed Harry’s glass, noticed his wet hair and looked around the room. "Seems to me you weren’t gone long enough to have eaten and had a shower after returning, am I right?"

Harry shot back the balance of the glass and gave a curt nod. "Couldn’t stomach any food."

Draco raised a brow – Harry ignored the judgement in the move – and motioned to Harry’s glass. "How much of that have you been able to stomach?"

"This is my second glass, Mum. Thanks for asking."

Draco snorted. "And before that?"

"A couple of pints. Is that it for the inquisition?"

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself. I did bring alcohol." He held up a bottle of wine and a bottle of firewhiskey. "No doubt better than the swill you’re currently imbibing, though I don’t know that the quality matters much to you."

"Right now? Not particularly, no."

Draco put down the bottles and with a wave of his wand, two platters appeared. "I thought this might happen, so I took it upon myself to prepare some sustenance to counteract – or at least slow down – the effects of a vat of whiskey on your body."

"You cooked for me?" Draco nodded. " _You_ prepared the meal?"

"I have been known to cook on occasion, yes."

"Really?"

Draco smacked his arm. "Yes, really. It’s nothing like you might get at Hogwarts or the Manor, but it’s perfectly edible." He waved his wand several times, clearing the table, setting it, then placing the food upon it. 

When he removed the covers from the platters, Harry breathed in deeply. "It smells delicious." His mouth began to water and he realised he was, in fact, hungry. 

Draco smirked. "It’s just pasta and garlic bread, but I do make a mean marinara, if I do say so myself." He motioned for Harry to eat.

When he noticed no plate for Draco, Harry asked, "Aren’t you eating?"

Draco shook his head. "I ate already. I thought you might have done too while you were out." He eyed Harry’s glass again. "But on the off chance it didn’t go well, I prepared extra figuring you could use some food and knowing you probably wouldn’t get anything for yourself. The carbs should do a bang-up job of absorbing some of the alcohol in your body."

Harry picked up a fork and dug in. "Who says I want to absorb the alcohol?"

Draco poured out two glasses of wine and placed one in front of Harry. As an afterthought, he exchanged Harry’s firewhiskey glass for one of water, giving Harry a pointed look as he plunked it down in front of him. "I’d wager your head will thank me in the morning."

Harry shrugged, now unable to speak with a mouthful of pasta. When he swallowed, he managed, "That’s what hangover potions are for."

"Too true, but they don’t alleviate all the effects. I always feel a bit off, even if not horrifically hungover. I find it’s best to not get there in the first place."

Harry snorted, remembering a night not too long ago when Draco was far from sober himself. He opted not to point this out. He had brought Harry dinner, after all. "This tastes even better than it smells. Thanks."

"You’re welcome. Now stop talking and eat." 

Harry didn’t need telling twice. They sat in companionable silence while he wolfed down the meal. When at last he’d finished, Draco grinned. "For someone who wasn’t hungry, you certainly cleared your plate well enough."

Harry waved the dishes off to the counter and took a sip of another exceptionally delicious wine. "Mm. Must have been the company."

"I make you hungry?"

Harry’s stomach tensed. Draco made him hungry alright, but not for food. Once more he kept his thoughts to himself. "More like Ron’s company tonight turned me off. I hadn’t realised how famished I was until I had food placed in front of me. Thanks for that."

"You’re welcome. So ... now that you’ve eaten and are likely as relaxed as you’re going to get tonight, tell me what happened."

Harry picked up his wine glass and took a long sip. "Ron’s a stubborn git, that’s what happened."

Draco coughed something that sounded curiously like cauldron and kettle. Harry glared at him. "So what else is new? He’s stubborn, you’re stubborn. Did you at least get to tell him how pissed off you are?"

"Well, yeah, but he still doesn’t get that he did anything wrong."

"So he didn’t apologise?"

Harry recalled the half-arsed explanation Ron had given. "Not in any meaningful way, no."

Draco looked over the rim of his glass curiously. "Define meaningful."

Harry finished his glass of wine with an appreciative hum. "I mean he said sorry, but didn’t mean it."

"And you know this how?"

"I know him. He’s only sorry he got caught." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "And he keeps up with the excuses, as though he still thinks what he did was right."

Draco swirled the remains of his wine and stared into the liquid for a time before responding. "What if he never means it, if he never really apologises? Then what? Do you think there’ll come a time when you can just agree to disagree and move on?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t really answer that because he didn’t know what the truth was. Could he forgive Ron? He might be able to forgive Gin, but Ron, he wasn’t so sure. Ron _knew_ him better than anyone, better even than Hermione. He didn’t know if he could get past this. Ever. No matter what Ron said or did. Even if he apologised and meant it.

Before he had a chance to answer, Draco asked, "Can you ever imagine forgiving him?" Harry just stared blankly but said nothing. "I mean, you’re all about forgiveness. Look at me. You’ve forgiven me for all sorts of shit I’ve done over the years, and there was a lot."

"True, but Ron knows me."

"I know you, too."

Harry shook his head. "Not like Ron. He knows pretty much all there is to know about me. About my past. Things only he and Hermione know."

Draco pursed his lips as though the thought irritated him, but he recovered quickly. "And that changes how you feel about him? Makes you incapable of forgiving him? Or makes him unworthy of forgiveness?"

"Yes." Harry ran his hands through his hair again. "No. I don’t know. I can’t explain it properly. My past, what he did, it all relates."

"I don’t know what you mean."

"I know. I’m not making any sense."

"You know you never really told me about your past. Not really. Nothing from before school."

"You didn’t tell me much either."

Draco considered this before nodding. "I think maybe we were in a place when we really needed to look forward, so we never took the time to look back."

Harry shrugged. "I guess. But it’s more than that."

"How so?"

"I don’t like talking about my past. It wasn’t a particularly happy time in my life."

Draco raised a brow. "Worse than Voldemort?"

"Well, no," Harry conceded. "But in some ways it was nearly as bad. And Ron knows about my past. He knows that, of all people, he shouldn’t have done what he did." Harry started to fidget. He hated even thinking back to that time.

"Hey." Draco put a hand over Harry’s now shaking knee. Harry hadn’t even noticed him getting up. "I’m not going to force you to talk about it – it’s not like I’m in any position to anyway – but I’d like to understand why you’re being so hard on the weasel. Not that I think he deserves any better, but he is your best friend and I can see this is getting to you and it’s more than anger." 

"It’s just ... he did to me what he _knew_ would ..."

"Would what?"

Harry stood up and looked for his whiskey glass. "I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol if I’m going to talk about my childhood." He walked to the counter and poured himself a triple before returning to the table with it. His whole body shook and he just stared into the glass, already back in the cupboard at Privet Drive.

"I know it wasn’t pleasant." Draco frowned. "I’ve heard the rumours. But I always figured that’s all they were – rumours."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then took a fortifying breath and swig. He looked back at Draco, saw the concern and curiosity in his gaze. He could trust this man. He knew he could. Against all odds, perhaps, but there you go. "Most are, I guess. Well, I think they are anyway, since I try not to listen to speculation about myself." He sipped his drink. "But yeah, it was pretty bad."

"So tell me."

Harry nodded, figuring it was probably long past time to open up about it. "I don’t like talking about it," he said again, "but maybe I should."

"For what it’s worth, I won’t tell anyone."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "I know. I trust you." Draco’s eyes widened. "Don’t look so surprised."

"But I am. I mean ... after everything ... after, well ..."

"Right." Harry swirled the liquid in his glass and sipped some more, knowing he needed some serious liquid courage for this conversation. "You know the story: Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me when I was a year old. What you didn’t know is what happened when he tried to kill me, which I’ll come back to. Anyway, Dumbledore sent Hagrid to get me out of there and he took me to my aunt and uncle’s house."

"The Muggles."

"Right. Only there weren’t your regular Muggles. See, they knew about magic because of my parents. But my aunt was jealous of her sister and had grown to hate everything about magic. So they kept it all from me."

"You didn’t know?"

"Nope. They told me that my parents were killed in a car crash, which was where my scar came from. And they tried to suppress any hint of magic, so they could ... how did my uncle put it? Oh, yeah, they tried to stamp it out of me. I got punished every time I had an incidence of uncontrolled magic."

Draco fidgeted in his seat. "Go on."

"So I lived in a cupboard and was never told who I was and --"

"Wait a minute. Back up there. What’s that about a cupboard?"

"My room was the cupboard under the stairs. I had a mattress and ... well, not much else. They locked me in there fairly regularly, sometimes for days if I was being punished, and it was pretty horrible."

Draco’s face reddened, his jaw clenched and his wand hand twitched. "I ... what the fuck kind of people are your aunt and uncle?"

"They aren’t typical Muggles, like I said. My aunt was jealous and my uncle figured if they pushed me down enough, made sure I never knew about my past, about myself, about my parents, maybe the magic would never come out in me. And when it did, they lied to me about it. They knew what was happening, but until I was eleven, I didn’t have a clue that I was a wizard or that magic was real."

"But ... what did your friends do? Didn’t they say something about the way you were treated? Try to help? Tell their parents? A teacher? Aren’t there laws against treating children that way?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t have any friends. My cousin saw to that. He would beat up anyone that even tried to be nice to me. So yeah. I didn’t go to any teachers or anything because what good would it have done?"

"I— I can’t believe—" Draco looked ready to punch something. "I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—"

Harry took another swig of his firewhiskey. "No need to be sorry. It’s just ... well, it’s been a really long time since I told anyone all of this, and ... it’s harder than I expected it might be. I think if I just spill it all out at once, it’ll be easier."

"Go on then."

"Right. Where was I? Oh, right. No friends. So I had no friends, no real family, I lived in a cupboard and had spiders for company. Not much of a childhood. Fast forward to my eleventh birthday, or just before. All these Hogwarts letters started arriving, but my uncle took them all and burned them. Wouldn’t even let me read them. Took us all away to escape them. Only on my birthday, right at midnight, Hagrid showed up to hand deliver me my first ever birthday cake." He smiled at the memory. "That and a Hogwarts letter. My uncle tried to stop him, but for the first time in my life, someone stood up for me. He told me I was a wizard and that I’d be going to Hogwarts. Long story short, my aunt and uncle weren’t happy, but they couldn’t do anything about it."

Draco smiled. Then the smile slid off his face. "So Hagrid was the first person from the wizarding world you’d met?"

Harry nodded. "First one I knew about anyway. And, if you can believe it, you were the first wizard my age I’d ever met."

"I was?"

"Mm hmm. Madam Malkin’s."

"But ... you never said."

Harry shrugged. "I already felt overwhelmed and then you went on about brooms and Quidditch and school houses and all I kept thinking was that I didn’t have a clue what you were talking about. And I didn’t want to tell you that, so ... well. Then you insulted Hagrid and I didn’t much care what you said after that."

"Fuck, I was a prat back then."

Harry grinned and raised his glass in a toast. "That you were, Malfoy." Draco tried to glare at him, but the pain in his features took the sting out of it. "But it’s all good. Hagrid filled me in on some of the stuff and it turned out to be the best birthday I’d ever had, before I had to go back to the Dursleys."

"You went back there? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "It was my home. Didn’t have anywhere else to go, did I? Anyway, after I got back there I had a whole month before school and I started doubting everything. Then when my uncle took me to the train station, he laughed at me, having a ticket for a non-existing platform, and left me between platforms nine and ten, figuring it was all a big joke."

Draco waved his wand and the good bottle of firewhiskey and two fresh glasses flew to the table. He poured them both a good measure, shoving the dregs of Harry’s substandard whiskey to the side. "And he left you – an eleven year old – alone at King’s Cross Station, even though he thought it was all a joke?"

"Er ... yeah." The question threw Harry – he hadn’t really given it much thought since. "I imagine he didn’t much care what happened to me, and just hoped I’d be gone for good." 

"That motherfucker." Now Draco was shaking.

Harry grinned slightly. "It’s okay. It all worked out. I ran into the Weasleys and they helped me get onto the platform and the rest is history."

Draco mumbled something into his glass as he drank his whiskey.

Harry took another sip. "So that’s my family."

"And you went back there again? After going to Hogwarts? Couldn’t you have ... I dunno ... stayed at the school? Or with the Weasleys?"

"Well, the Weasleys didn’t really know me, did they? They only saw me the once at King’s Cross. Besides, I had to go back."

"Why the hell would you have to do that?"

Harry took another sip. Distantly he registered just how much better it was than the swill Draco’d commented on earlier. "Because Dumbledore had invoked ancient magic to protect me. As long as I lived under my family’s roof, Voldemort couldn’t get to me."

Draco seemed to calm at this. "So Dumbledore told you all this? How did you react when you found out what had really happened to your parents? That Voldemort had tried to kill you?"

Harry let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, that’s not quite how it happened." He reached for the bottle and topped up both their glasses. "Hagrid had told me about Voldemort before and I heard all sorts of stuff at school – which is weird, by the way, hearing things about yourself from strangers. But Dumbledore kept pretty much everything from me. Only told me what he thought I needed to know."

"Wait. Didn’t you fight Voldemort off that first year too? What did Dumbledore tell you about that? And when? And when did _he_ know?"

Harry laughed. "So I can probably do a full-on interview with you later, where I can tell you all about my life, but for now I’ll sum it up by saying that Dumbledore kept everything to himself, releasing little bits of information at a time. When it was most convenient. For him." Harry couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice. "It was all in my best interest, of course."

Draco snorted. "Sure it was."

Harry swigged back some whiskey. "Exactly. It was always what worked for _him_. He thought he knew what was best – at the time I thought it was what was best for _me_ but I learned the truth later on."

"So what did he say when you confronted him?"

Harry sighed. "He was already dead when I found out."

"Then how did you—?"

"Snape."

"Snape told you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. As he lay dying, he gave me his memories. I watched them in Dumbledore’s Pensieve and ... well, then I knew."

Draco no longer looked angry, but curious. "Knew what?"

"That Dumbledore had kept the most important information from me until it was time for me to die."

"Wait. What?"

Harry got up and began pacing the room. "Remember I said that something happened the night Voldemort killed my parents?"

"Yes."

"Well, he’d been creating Horcruxes – objects that contained pieces of his soul, so that he would be immortal, unable to die – and I guess he’d planned to create another that night. Only when his spell didn’t work on me, a piece of his soul ended up _inside_ of me."

Draco’s jaw dropped and he stared at Harry. Harry pointed to his scar. Draco finished his whiskey and poured them both another. "You had a piece of Voldemort’s soul _inside_ you?" Harry nodded. "And Dumbledore knew that." He nodded again. "And he didn’t tell you." 

"That’s right. Even when he told me about the Horcruxes and his theory – only when he himself was dying and needed me to carry on the search, of course – he conveniently left out that _I_ was the last Horcrux. And that I would have to die in order for anyone to ever be able to kill Voldemort."

"He was setting you up to die?"

Harry nodded. "As Snape put it, like a pig to the slaughter. But, hey, it was all for the greater good."

"I – I don’t know what to say."

"Not much to say really. Basically my whole life people kept things from me, lied to me, manipulated me and the people around me. Controlled my life without my ever knowing."

"And Ron knew all this?"

"Yeah, he and Hermione knew. They’re the only people I’ve told. Until now." Harry laughed. "It’s funny, really. Ron was angrier with Dumbledore than I was and he doesn’t get how hypocritical he’s being. He just doesn’t see it."

"So when the weasel and weaselette ..."

"Exactly. Ginny never knew, so I’m not as furious with her. I’m pissed, yeah, but she didn’t know just how much of a betrayal that was, them going to you and then keeping it from me for years. Forever, I’m sure, if you hadn’t told me."

"I should have told you sooner."

"Yeah, you should have. But then you didn’t know either." He drank the last of his whiskey and put the glass down. "But now you do."

"I feel like there’s still a lot you aren’t telling me."

"True, but those are the low lights. In a nutshell, I’ve been manipulated my whole life and I swore it would never happen again. But then the last person I ever expected ... well. So that’s why I’m so pissed at Ron. And it’s why I don’t know if I can ever forgive him."

"That’s understandable." He opened his mouth to ask more, but then closed it again. 

They sat silently sipping on their whiskey, each lost in thought. When Draco spoke again, he switched subjects. "So, did you get to the office?"

"Oh, right. I can’t believe I forgot to mention that." Had it only been hours ago? It felt like days. "I confirmed Rowle’s magical signature."

"But he couldn’t get in this time."

"Right. You know, that still bothers me."

"What does?"

"How he managed to get past your wards. They aren’t easy to break through." Draco wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Harry chuckled. "Relax. I know they’re not exactly Ministry-approved wards." Draco’s eyes widened. "You don’t think _mine_ are, do you?"

"I—" He narrowed his eyes at Harry. "No, I suppose you wouldn’t much care about rules like that."

Harry grinned. "Exactly. And I’m not about to report you either, so don’t worry." He understood Draco’s concern. No one at the Ministry really gave a damn about the levels of wards people kept at their homes, unless they were set to injure as well as secure, or if they alerted Muggles to the presence of magic. But technically they could charge someone with breaking the law. And, given his past – and the level of animosity many at the Ministry had for the Malfoys – Draco wouldn’t want to risk officials finding out. Harry hoped that no one would be so petty, but who knew for sure?

"So now what?"

"Now we continue to wait. And keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. His direct line to you is now broken off; that might push him to do something."

Draco tried to look unaffected, but Harry could see concern in his eyes. "Like what?"

Harry didn’t want to worry Draco too much, but he did need to be cautious. "This is Rowle we’re talking about. I wouldn’t put anything past him."

***

The next day saw no progress in the case and Harry was glad of it. He received notification that Ginny had dropped by the house, but he waited until she’d left before he returned to Grimmauld. She’d taken the box Harry’d put her remaining things into but this time had left no note. Just a hint of her perfume lingered, the only sign she’d been there. Perhaps she’d finally got the message. Or perhaps Ron had told her what Harry had said. Whatever the case, with a quick wave of his wand, he confirmed that nothing of hers remained. He took a deep, calming breath and then, with a heavy heart, reset his wards to keep her and Ron out. He was tempted to do the same for all the Weasleys but could find no good reason for it. The rest of the family had done nothing wrong. They might agree with Ron and Ginny’s actions, if they ever found out, but they’d played no hand in them. Besides, they were Harry’s family too. At least he hoped they still were.

That done, he spent the day cleaning and putting away the overt reminders of his and Ginny’s time together. He left a few Weasley family photos, but by the time he was done, he was confident that he wouldn’t have constant reminders of Ginny everywhere he turned. Eventually he’d touch up the place, redecorate a bit to make it truly his own, but for now this would have to do.

Even though the place felt empty, it was good to be home.

The following day, Harry was at the office, once more going through Rowle’s extensive file, looking for something – anything – he might have missed before, when the coin in his pocket burned. 

_Lab broken into. Left a note._

Adrenaline pumped through him. _Are you okay?_

_Yes. Arrived to find mess._

He breathed a sigh of relief. He bloody well should have warded Draco’s lab before this. That was sloppy. _Be right there._ He returned Rowle’s file to records and was out the door in no time.

He Apparated to the lab and found a shaken Draco staring at the devastation. "Holy shit."

Draco turned angry eyes towards Harry. "He destroyed _everything_." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "What’s the point of that? I mean look at this place!"

Harry wanted to comfort him, but had to focus on the case. "Did you touch anything?"

"No. I walked in and found this disaster. I did cast a stasis charm over the lot, in case volatile ingredients came into contact with each other, but otherwise left everything as it was. Then I messaged you."

"Okay, then. Let me call the forensics team out."

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes, Draco. This isn’t just your private residence full of innocuous contents. This is a laboratory with chemicals and other substances that, combined in the wrong way, could pose a public danger. It needs to be contained and evacuation of neighbouring units might be in order."

Draco wrapped his arms around his sides, like he had done when his flat had been broken into. Only this time he was more angry than scared. "Fine," he said. "But there shouldn’t be anything to concern anyone but me. Any damage caused by potential reactions would be localised and non-lethal."

"Okay, good to know. Is there anything missing?"

Draco frowned. "I didn’t check. I mean everything’s destroyed, except for a few things on the shelves. I’m not even sure my equipment can be repaired. Some of it is rather delicate."

"Do you have an accurate inventory to compare to?"

He nodded. With a sigh, he withdrew his wand and cast several spells. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply. "Oh my god!"

"What is it?" Harry asked. "Should we leave? Evacuate the area? Is there something wrong?"

Draco’s face reddened and his wand arm shook. "That fucker!"

"What?"

He pointed his wand at the distant cabinet. An entire shelf of vials remained unbroken. "Over there. The fucker planted illegal potions in my lab. That bastard!"

"He what?"

"Controlled substances," Draco said. "Drugs. _Illegal_ drugs. Highly addictive and illegal substances _in my fucking lab!_ "

"Relax, Draco."

He turned on Harry, face furious. "How the _fuck_ am I supposed to relax when that fucker planted illicit substances in my lab? He obviously wants them found so I get thrown in prison!"

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder but Draco shrugged it off. "You’re not going to prison," Harry assured him.

"Oh, really? You mean the forensics team that you _have to call out to the scene_ won’t notice? You know, those _potions experts_ and _scientists_ that are trained to detect such things will simply overlook it and say nothing?"

"Relax, Draco."

"Stop telling me to relax!"

"Fine," Harry said, resisting the urge to shake some sense into him. "Don’t relax." He pulled out his kit bag and expanded it to its regular size. "I’m going to start cataloguing the scene. You make sure there’s nothing else in here that doesn’t belong and let me know if anything’s missing." He then withdrew a camera and began taking photos and making notes. Once he was done all that, he withdrew evidence bags and placed all undamaged vials from the cabinet into them, labelling them with their location as he went. "Anything else here that doesn’t belong?"

Draco shook his head. "Not that I can see. And it looks like all my equipment is here, however damaged it may be. But as for the potions and ingredients, I can’t tell for sure what’s missing or damaged until I return everything to its original state. Then I can count everything."

Harry nodded and pointed to the evidence bags. "Tell me which of these aren’t yours."

Draco pointed to six different bags. "Those."

Harry nodded, wrote ‘Planted’ on each bag and numbered them one through six. Then he put the bags and his camera into his kit bag and sent the whole thing to his hotel room.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Protecting you."

"Are you _insane_? I can’t ask you to do that."

"You didn’t ask me to."

"Harry, no. You can’t."

"I just did."

"You can’t destroy evidence. You can’t ruin your career. I won’t let you." Harry’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh. "It’s not funny!"

Harry’s laughter subsided and he became serious. "I know it’s not funny. Rowle is trying to ruin your life. He did something stupid and may have fucked up."

"But Harry."

Harry held up a hand. "I’m not destroying anything. I took photographs of the scene and I collected the evidence. I will include everything in my report and the files. Eventually. But it won’t do anyone – least of all you – any good to have you thrown in prison. And I’m not wasting resources investigating _you_ instead of real criminals."

"But you’ll get in –"

"I won’t be in any trouble. I’ve been given a great deal of latitude on this case, from the Minister and Head Auror directly. Their concerns remain. They were worried about the bias in the department against you, and this would only serve to cause a distraction. I’ll inform them of these developments and explain what I’m doing. And together we’ll decide where to have the contents of the vials analysed, and hopefully we can come up with something linking them to Rowle. I’ll also tell them that you volunteered the information about these potions and that you had ample time to dispose of them before I arrived, had they been yours. Okay?"

"So you’re not putting your career at risk for me."

"No, I’m not." Draco’s shoulders relaxed and Harry sent a Patronus to the forensics team. "But I would, you know."

"Yeah," Draco scowled. "That’s what I’m afraid of."


End file.
